Decks Fall, Everyone Dies
by Kalarin
Summary: This is what happens when a world built on card games falls. Also, Tristan gets to be a hero. A parody rock opera. Post-canon.
1. Very strange, enchanted Tristan

This is what happens when a world based on card games falls. The characters, tired of the tyranny of dice games, decide to literally stage a revolution.

This story was inspired by _Moulin Rouge!_ but adapted for the _Yu-Gi-Oh!_ universe. It focuses more on the revolution than the romance. I also wrote filk songs (sort of like parodies written specifically for a fandom). Also, it takes place in the future (Mokuba is eighteen, so that'd make everyone else about twenty-three).

I attempted to blend the Abridged canon and the English dub canon (with one slight reference to the Singapore dub in a later chapter).

The blocks of lyrics are in italics. Here are some (head)notes to tell you to what tune the lyrics are set, and some other stuff:

(1) This part is to the tune of "American Pie" by Don McLean.

(2) The lyrics Tristan and Yugi sing during this part are set to "The Hills are Alive" from the Sound of Music.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Yu-Gi-Oh_, its Abridged Series, _Moulin Rouge_ (not the book and not the movie), or any of the songs parodied in this story.

-O-o-O-o-O-

_"A great many years ago, late one cold December..."_

Bandit Keith's voice drifting from the nearby bar reminded the hollowed-out Domino City of its current situation. The streets were deserted, save for a few vagabonds and stray cats. The fall of dueling and the current political unrest had taken quite a toll on the city.

Sometimes, the stray cats attacked the hobos, unable to find any mice. Perhaps one of the residents of the many crumbling apartment buildings and boarding houses could help them drive off the feral felines, if they weren't so caught up in their own troubles.

_"I thought I'd count the ceiling tiles."_

One of those residents, though not dealing with a cheating spouse, unruly children, or substance abuse, still found reason to be devastated to the point of not wanting to crawl out of the dirty bed sheet cocoon.

_"And maybe if I lost my pants,_

_My whole day'd be enhanced."_

Twenty-four year old Tristan Taylor lay supine on his tiny bed in his tiny apartment. Old laundry was his carpet; tattered, rejected manuscripts were his wallpaper (though they didn't do much to insulate the tiny room). The window refused to close, leaving him in the cold like the vagabonds on the streets below. Unlike the vagabonds, however, he was not subject to feral cat attacks, as his window was too high and there were not enough footholds for the cats to leap onto.

His furniture was placed haphazardly across the floors of every room. He'd tried to move things, change the rooms to erase any memories of the events that had happened there, but gave up when he realized it was useless. His super-strength was all tapped out.

_"And maybe it'd distract me from the bile."_ (1)

The task didn't even distract him from the memories he was trying to erase. He turned to his typewriter, but wrote nothing but crap for months, drawing attention to his slowly choking career. Nothing, absolutely nothing he wrote would ever be as good as the play he'd written while with _him_.

He stared at the typewriter and wished it had Internet access.

-O-o-O-

The previous year and a half ago, he'd moved back to Domino City. Yahtzee Town was as dead as a housefly born in 2004. No sense in staying in a place where the only job one could get involved a silly hat and a drive-thru window.

Of course, his father didn't approve of any part of it. Part of the reason they'd moved away from Domino in Tristan's senior year was to get the hell out of Dodge before it crumbled.

"That city is a den of sin. All they were good for was card games and now that's over," he'd called down the hall as Tristan packed his suitcases.

Tristan drowned him out; his father always had some sort of complaint, even when he was in high school. Tristan's father never liked his friends. He'd tried to push Tristan into law or business school. And now he wanted to keep Tristan from doing the one thing that would allow him to actually distinguish himself from every other man in his family.

His father sighed, ran his hands over his graying hair-spike, and tried to reason with his son. "There's nothing there for you. You're going to end up with a stripper and a mean case of the syphilis." Tristan continued to carry his bags to his dented and rusted hatchback as his father ranted on (most likely about the fact that Tristan drove around in such a "distasteful" car).

"Why would you even want to move to such a pit?" Tristan's father finally yelled from the porch.

Tristan paused after closing the back. "To find work and love."

His father threw his arms up in the air and stomped back into the house. "Always with the love! Just hopeless!" The door slammed shut behind him. Tristan sank into the car and backed out of the driveway in silence.

Tristan was determined to prove his father wrong. He was going to find a great job. He wasn't going to be like everyone else in his family, suffocating in their prefab houses (in no world could they rightly be called homes). He was going to write, no matter how much his father told him his English degree was useless in today's world, and he was going to fall in love doing it.

He found a cheap apartment. It was perfect: it was in a peaceful neighborhood, not too small, near the center of the city, and had its very own bathroom (most of the tenants had to use the communal toilets on the roof). It had everything Tristan needed.

Including a plentiful supply of rats in case he ran out of food.

And a great ventilation system, by way of the stuck open window.

And a cat-based security system.

So it wasn't heaven. That was fine; Tristan didn't expect Shangri-la. And when he'd been living there for a week, the cats on the porch got used to him and stopped trying to eat his legs. All he needed was a safe, quiet place to write.

He'd gotten a job writing for a newspaper. He was a hopeless romantic, married to his dream, but he took a mistress in reality. He couldn't sustain himself on playwriting alone. When he sat down to write, he was reminded of this fact because he couldn't think of anything worth developing past Act II. He'd write a scene, realize it was going nowhere, realize the characters had no motive or relationship whatsoever, and toss it, vowing to take a different, better approach to his next idea.

He couldn't bear to throw his terrible ideas away, though. Maybe he could rework them into something readable-or at least use them to keep a fire going when the heating system inevitably gave out.

It was an October evening and he was banging away at the typewriter that'd fallen off a truck. He was presently trying to write a love story. It sounded like a good idea; romance novels sold pretty well, just look at that vampire book that was killing on the shelves. However, having never even dated, he was unprepared.

Above him, male voices alternated singing (somewhat off-pitch) and arguing. Tristan never saw his upstairs neighbors. They seemed to be home so rarely (and Tristan would know, since he spent most of his time in his apartment) he wondered if they even lived here. The noise didn't bother him much, but it might make concentration on his story harder. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help catching a few key words of their conversation, such as "warbling," "sheep," and "lubrication."

Tristan took a break from his writing to listen more closely.

"I'm not changing it. I refuse to change my art to suit the plebian masses," a smooth, effeminate voice floated out.

"Nobody's going to watch it if they don't get it," a more youthful, raspy voice argued.

"Then phooey on them! This is art; it's not my fault the viewers are uncultured urchins."

A pause, then the effeminate voice barked, "Yami!"

A slight snore, then a deeper voice: "What? What did I miss?"

Collective sighs and general utterances of frustration.

"Why don't we take it from the top?" suggested a voice similar to the deep one, only at a higher pitch.

The music started up again. Their voices sure sounded familiar, but Tristan couldn't hear well through the floor and the noise from outside. He wondered what exactly they were doing up there that involved music, incomprehensible art, and sheep. He couldn't make out the lyrics of the song and he wasn't a music expert, but someone was having issues navigating up and down the scale.

"No, no, no, no!" The effeminate voiced man could probably be heard from the basement. "Hear that-warbling like a…a…warbler! You need to lubricate your throats with water and stop drinking all that Abysmalinth."

The men, all but the deeper voiced one, began to protest. Tristan could hear soft snoring under the arguing.

The next thing Tristan knew, the ceiling caved in and a male figure fell through onto his patched couch.

Tristan left his chair and went to inspect. On his couch was a skinny man of average height with black, red, and blond hair spiked up with blond tendrils hanging over his face. His blue tank top was speckled with debris from the ceiling and his red kilt had flown up in the fall, revealing his pyramid-patterned underwear. Being unconscious, the guy didn't seem to care much.

"Wait a minute. I thought he left us in high school," Tristan thought, seeing the extra blond streaks in the man's hair.

Tristan looked up through the hole in his ceiling and their floor. Two other men stared back down at him. One had unruly black hair and tanned arms. Tristan couldn't see his face behind all the hair.

The second had long white hair and a gold eye patch.

"Pegasus? What's he doing here?"

The black-haired man wore jeans and a t-shirt, but Pegasus's suit looked like a cross between a cowboy and Renaissance fair attendee with ruffles on steroids. They also probably wore matching embarrassed expressions as they backed away from the hole (he could only guess at the black-haired man's expression). He could hear the youthful raspy voice mumble, "My brother's gonna be so pissed."

There was a knock at the door. Tristan answered it. The visitor was a shorter, more doe-eyed version of the man on the couch. He was dressed even more outlandishly than the other one; he wore a green toga with a hoop skirt underneath.

"Tristan. I didn't know you were in town," the young man said.

"Just got in. Hey, Yugi." Tristan let him in. He gestured at the couch. "Is that…"

"Yeah, that's the Pharaoh." Yugi's cowboy boots tapped against the wood floor as he went to collect his roommate. "He goes by Yami nowadays."

"He changed his name?"

"He figured 'The Duelist Formerly Known as Pharaoh Atem' was too wordy. Also he wanted a change. New life, new name."

Tristan joined Yugi by the couch. "Is he okay?"

"He has narcolepsy. I think it's because he came back from the other side. Sometimes when he falls asleep, his hair smashes through the ceiling." Yugi looked down at Yami and sighed, smoothing down his kilt. "We try to catch him, but there's always a first time."

The black haired man appeared in the doorway. He flipped his hair out of his face and now Tristan could see that the man was an eighteen-year-old Mokuba Kaiba.

"Is he concussed?" Mokuba asked.

Yugi poked Yami, who swatted his hand away, but didn't wake up. "Doesn't seem to be. I don't think we'll be able to lift him by ourselves, though."

"I'll help." Tristan picked Yami up. He went up the stairs and into the apartment. He made sure Yami didn't slip off his shoulder and tear up the wooden stairs with his hair.

He put him down on the makeshift double bed (twin beds pushed together with a sheet over both) in the bedroom. He went back into their living room, while Mokuba stayed in the bedroom to try and wake Yami up. The room was about three-quarters the size of Tristan's, but was crammed with furniture and set pieces. Lamé curtains hung from everything, regardless of whether or not there was a window. Dueling posters plastered the walls, along with advertisements for a place called the HeighHoGoodBi Black Dragon Palace and a show to be held there.

"We're rehearsing for that right now," Yugi said, noticing Tristan studying the poster with interest. "It's a little weird, but it's a really avant-garde, dueling-based performance art piece. I'm sure it'll be at least fun to watch even if nobody gets it."

"Do you do performance art pieces often?" Tristan asked.

Yugi nodded. "In the last one we did, half of the group hung upside down and played pop songs backward on the kazoo for twenty minutes, and the other half threw playing cards at us. Also, we were naked."

"Nude," Pegasus corrected. "When it is in art, it is called 'nude.'"

Tristan was about to ask how everyone got into the performance art scene when Mokuba came out of the bedroom. "He's not waking up. Let's do it without him."

"But who'll read the part of the young shepherd-bard-bagpipe player?" Yugi asked.

Everyone scratched his head. They hoped they didn't have lice.

"I could help with that," Tristan offered.

"Yes!" They all agreed.

"Let's take it from the top, then." Pegasus waved his hands to prompt them to action.

Yugi got into position atop a mountain of crates that they were using as a hill. Mokuba plugged in a keytar and set up glasses with varying amounts of water. He played the introductory chords and Yugi began to sing.

_"The topography thrives with the melodies of pleasurable vocalizations!"_

Tristan cringed inwardly. No wonder Yugi was having trouble singing properly.

Mokuba clinked the glasses with a sparkly pencil while tapping a complicated riff and the keytar with just four fingers. After a few seconds, he dropped the pencil, obviously frustrated. "This isn't working."

"Of course it's not! When did we ever agree on a keytar? They are so last millennium!" Pegasus griped.

"Actually, I was talking about the lyrics."

"Impossible! My lyrics are flawless! It's that tacky synth pop that's ruining the song."

"Synth can be perfectly classy when played right!" Mokuba argued.

"Well, I guess you're doing it wrong, then!"

The two fell into a shouting match, with Yugi yelling for them to calm down and talk it over rationally and for them to remember their neighbors with the mutant supersonic hearing, all from atop the crate hill. Tristan ruminated the lyrics in his head. "The topography…Melodious…" What he spit out grabbed everyone's attention and held it for ransom.

_"Duel fields, oh, they thrive! In a world of techno,"_ Tristan sang in a clear tenor.

Everyone was open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Mokuba's hand swept over the keytar to find the correct scale.

_"With notes from the gods of the ancient days,"_ Tristan continued, this time with Mokuba's ethereal music. (2)

All was silent again.

"GENIUS!" a voice boomed from the bedroom. Yami was kneeling on the bed, violet eyes wide and wild with ecstasy (the emotion, not the drug). He wasn't even fazed when the wind blew through the window, blowing his kilt up so he tripped on it while getting off the bed. Luckily, he landed on his hands and somersaulted into the living room.

"By the gods, those were the best lyrics I've ever heard!" Yami raved. "They're perfect!"

Tristan beamed. "Thanks, dude!"

"We must have him write for us," Yami said. The others nodded, with the exception of Pegasus.

"Hmph! If no one here can appreciate my genius, I suppose I'll take it elsewhere!" With that, he flounced out the door. Nobody seemed too broken up. They'd had quite enough of Pegasus's "artistic genius."

"Are you available for the next few months?" Yugi asked Tristan.

"Yeah, I'm not doing anything important," Tristan answered. "Except for your show."

"Hurrah!" Everyone cheered.

"Okay, so how will we convince Bakura to let us do the show without Pegasus?" Mokuba asked.

"That's right; we did seal the deal when he was still on board," Yami said.

"Why do you need Bakura's permission?" Tristan asked.

"He's one of the owners of the HeighHoGoodBi Black Dragon Palace, the club where we're doing the show. He's in charge of the shows," Yami answered. "Drives a hard bargain, too. It'll be hard getting him to hire a new writer. He did seem rather fond of Pegasus."

"I have an idea." Yugi gestured for the four to huddle, football style. "We'll bring Tristan to the club and introduce him to Joey. Bakura counts on him to give them the newest, coolest ideas. This show is right up his alley. He'll love it. It'll give him every opportunity to show off his mad skills. If he likes it, he'll convince Bakura to let us put it on."

"Is this the same Joey that I'm thinking of?" Tristan asked, interested. Things sure had changed since high school.

Yugi winked. "You'll find out soon enough."

"This warrants a celebration!" Yami proposed.

"Oh, you'll find any excuse to drink," Mokuba muttered.

"Who wants Abysmalinth?" Yugi sing-songed, swishing a greenish bottle.

"Ooh, ooh, I do!" Yami waved his hand in the air.

Each emptied his glass. Tristan, who'd never tried Abysmalinth, made a face, twisting muscles he didn't know he had. The others didn't seem to be too bothered by the taste. They seemed more distracted by something in front of the door.

"Do you see what I see?" Yami asked no one in particular.

"Are you referring to the pink elephants dueling with lasers or the blue-eyed white fairy that looks disturbingly like my brother?" Mokuba responded.

Tristan looked up. Sure enough, there were pink elephants hopping across the furniture, diving and ducking as they shot lasers from their trunks. One flapped his ears and flew to dive-bomb another. Above the elephants, however, was a cooler (in color) figure. A silvery fairy flitted from elephant head to elephant head. His blue eyes could guide a ship through a foggy night. His glittery tunic could blind any pirates hoping to attack said ship. His mullet commanded attention, but was overshadowed by the twelve inch cobalt blue wingspan.

"I am the blue-eyed white fairy!" he roared in a surprisingly husky voice for his size. "Feel the wrath of my sparkles!" He thrust his hands outward, showering the men with his "wrath."

They laughed as glitter rained down on all of their heads. They ended up in the small kitchen area, staring into the microwave.

"Pretty shiny wrath," Yugi breathed, eyes dewy.

"Hey...Are sparkles supposed to be wet?" Tristan asked, the goofy smile not leaving his face.

"They change color, too! Now they're gold!" Yami exclaimed.

Their eyes slowly rose to the ceiling, where a crack leaked yellow liquid. It was then that they remembered the communal toilet on the roof.

They'd never had such a short Abysmalinth trip before today.

-O-o-O-o-O-


	2. Heigh Ho, Black Dragon Top Dog!

In this chapter, Tristan arranges to meet Joey, but someone else has his eye on Domino's Top Dog.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Yu-Gi-Oh_, its Abridged Series, _Moulin Rouge_, or the songs parodied in this fanfiction.

(1) To the tune of "Blah, Blah, Blah" by Ke$ha.

(2) To the tune of "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls.

(3) To the tune of "Cotton Eye Joe" by the Rednex.

(4) To the tune of "I will go with you" by Donna Summer. Also, a translation of the Latin non sequiturs in order: "I will go home with you." "Let it all hang out." "Order out of chaos." "I think, therefore I am." "Out of one, many." (He doesn't get to finish, but the whole saying is e pluribus unum. It's on the dollar bill.)

(5) To the tune of "Witch in the Ditch" by Erasure.

-O-o-O-o-O-

After showers and lots of toothpaste and mouthwash, they walked to the HeighHoGoodBi Black Dragon Palace.

"Most call it the 'Black Dragon' for short," Yugi explained when Tristan found himself stumbling over the long title.

"That blue-eyed fairy looked awfully familiar," Yami commented, noticing a poster for the Black Dragon, advertising the attractions for that night. Three names were printed in neon yellow at the bottom of the poster: Joey, Mai, and Kaiba.

"Doesn't he have his big fancy company to run? What's he doing in a dump like this?" Tristan wondered.

Tristan looked around in awe at the city. He'd heard all kinds of news about Domino City (mostly from his father, mostly probably inaccurate) since they'd moved to Yahtzee town just before his senior year. Back when he was in high school it was bustling during the day, but everyone really woke up at night. He'd never seen so many neon lights in one place.

Coming back as an adult, it was slightly less impressive than he remembered. There were more abandoned storefronts and graffiti murals than he remembered. The people on the streets seemed less vibrant and more like they'd been around an unlit block a few times. Also, they were coming up on where Kaibaland used to be, but it was nowhere in sight.

But like the old times, it was still a hub of activity, and, judging by the strange characters lurking around every corner, the freaks still came out at night.

They came to a massive, obviously repurposed building that almost took up the entire block. A giant gold-painted Greek pediment over pyramid studded blue doors marked the entrance. Fake stained glass windows lined the brick walls, interspersed with neon flamingo lights. Graffiti decorated the areas not covered by windows or flamingos. Miniature windmills and plastic dragons perched atop the purple tiled roof.

They weren't going for tasteful when they designed the place.

They walked down the dark entrance hall, then through a curtain made of Duel Monsters cards. The room they entered was huge and the mirrored wall at the back only emphasized it. The black panelled walls were decorated with glow-in-the-dark geometric shapes and traffic lights. Glittery green curtains covered the stained glass windows. A disco ball hung from the vaulted ceiling.

"My god," Tristan gushed. "It's beautiful."

The music blared from the back of the giant dance hall and the backs of the band were reflected in the disco balls and mirrored walls. The five-piece band wore striped jumpsuits and was flanked by two speakers topped with a mess of shiny streamers and fuzzy balls. A rope fell from one of the balconies over the stage and there stood Kaiba, in an electric blue plastic pinafore, tin foil hat, belt-laden boots, and not much else. He shimmied down the rope as the dancers on stage screeched and scattered, their feather and Duel Monsters card tunics clicking as they kicked up their legs.

"Is this generally what happens, or is this an emergency?" Tristan whispered to Yugi.

"This is pretty normal, yeah," Yugi answered.

"Normal for a Wednesday, anyway," Yami added, then blinked as a strobe light lowered onto the stage.

"Kaiba's the other owner," Yugi explained to Tristan. "They're a little understaffed at the moment, so he fills in sometimes."

"The owners perform, too?" Tristan asked.

Yugi nodded. "The show must go on, or there's no business."

Kaiba stalked across the stage. He tossed handfuls of chicken feed at the cowering dancers, who acted as if he were throwing miniature live grenades. They did a one-eighty and began to peck at the floor as Kaiba roared, "That's right, chickenheads! Peck at the ground upon which I tread! Run back to your Mega Ultra Mother! You're no match for my Obelisk!"

He broke out into a delightful verse, backed up by an electronic beat:

_"Coming out your beak with your clucking talk,_

_Don't even get me started on that aimless walk._

_Snap your trap like a lockbox_

_And get to the coop_

_With the stupid crowing cocks."_

Tristan looked around him, incredulous, as the whole audience joined in with Kaiba's singing:

_"Stop cla-cla-clucking that bawk, bawk, bawk._

_'Cause it just makes me wanna mock, mock, mock_

_Your mindless chatter and talk, talk, talk_

_When all you say is that bawk, bawk, bawk."_ (1)

By the end of the song, everyone was doing some combination of the funky chicken dance and a hip swivel. Everyone except Tristan, of course, who was really beginning to wonder if he was still sober at all.

"Is this good for your mind?"

Everyone clapped and cheered raucously as the beat died out. The chicken dancers scampered and Kaiba herded them to the dressing rooms.

Yugi leaned over and whispered to a bewildered Tristan, "Show's not over yet. Wait'll you see the Top Dog."

A white haired young man in a red tuxedo jacket with shiny leather short shorts skipped out. He bowed and tipped his top hat to the audience who roared with amusement.

"And there's Bakura," Yugi whispered. "Let's go up to the balcony. We can see better from there."

Tristan followed Yugi and the others, taking a few opportunities to look over his shoulder at what wackiness was to ensue. Domino had _really_ changed since he moved away.

Meanwhile, a very important man was taking his seat on the balcony.

"Are you sure we're in the right seats?" Duke Devlin, the Duke of Diceland, asked his assistant, Noah Kaiba. "They seem a little far."

"It's a big hall, Master Duke," Noah responded, craning his head to see if any riffraff would approach the Almighty Duke. Of course they wouldn't, they probably didn't even know who he was. Noah made a mental note to never let Duke find this out. He had such a fragile ego.

"Well, Bakura did say this was the best spot to view him. As long as I can see that blond head on the stage, it'll do. Have to be able to see what I'm paying for."

"As you wish, Master Duke." Noah hoped Duke didn't see him roll his eyes. "And I gave up working with Seto and Mokuba for this."

Back downstairs, the audience was amused by Bakura's cane twirling tricks.

"Is everyone enjoying the show?" Bakura shouted, twirling his white cane in the manner of a cheerleader twirling a baton.

"Yeah!" the audience hollered back.

"Then brace yourself for Mammoth Mai and Joey, the Top Dog!"

The room went dark except for the strobe lights. Everyone in the audience (including Tristan, who'd been informed of this part and thus could participate) twirled multicolored glow sticks as Bakura moonwalked to the side of the stage, twirling his own glow-in-the-dark cane. White confetti fell from the rafters.

Two spotlights aimed at either side of the stage. Another electronic beat started up, this one harder, more energetic than the other. A very well endowed blond woman in a costume straight out of "Xena: Warrior Princess" marched onstage. The audience clapped for her, but they really went wild when a blond man in a fringed bikini top, leather chaps, and a spiked dog collar strutted out. They quieted down as the man, Joey, began to rap in a thick Brooklyn accent.

_"I'll tell ya what I need, what I really, really need!"_

The woman, Mai, rapped back, _"Your Exodia head in my Pot of Greed!"_

Back to Joey: _"I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really, really, really wanna play without cards!"_

The crowd swooned as he started singing:

_"We need a duel disk, or a duelin' glove._

_Just want your great big deck givin' me some love!_

_I don't mean playin' a game with cards,_

_Raise your checkered flag and let da gamin' start!"_

He whipped a pair of checkered underwear in the air and tossed it to Mai, who stuck it to the glow in the dark cane Bakura tossed to her. She flew it and marched in place as Joey gyrated around her.

_"If you're gonna be my duelist, you gotta play 'til da end._

_Duelin' is foreva; it's not some stupid trend!_

_If you're gonna be my duelist, you gotta make me shout._

_You hafta have da card-lust, dat's what it's all about!"_ (2)

For those three to four minutes, Tristan heard no lyrics, saw none of Mai's antics with the flagpole, and didn't even notice when Kaiba and the chicken dancers came out and performed a complicated chair dance. All he could see was the golden haired Adonis working his chiseled-in-third-period-woodshop body around the stage. The drops of sweat rolling off of his body were like diamonds and Tristan just wanted to lap them up. Tristan didn't even care that his previous thought was a mixed metaphor and actually sort of repulsive. No sound passed his ears but the sweet melody of that nasally voice over that cheesy electronic beat. It was as if Tristan were partying on Olympus. Or mildly drunk on an unfamiliar substance.

"Damn, Joe…You've certainly changed," he thought.

While this merry romp through unreality occurred, Yugi, Tristan and company sat and watched from the same section of the balcony as Duke and Noah. Duke slid his chair as far away from the group as possible ("Commoners!") while Noah, preferring the company of the riffraff and his brother, stayed put. The "commoners" he sat near were snickering at something and looking over at Duke. Not that Duke cared what those plebeians thought of him.

"Duke's got toilet paper stuck to his shoe," Yami chortled softly.

Noah gave a weak smile. "If you know what's good for you, you won't tell him. Trust me."

Yugi frowned-or tried to. "We can't just let him walk around like that," he mock-scolded, trying hard to muffle his laughter.

Then Duke sneezed.

It wasn't a delicate, noble sneeze, no. It was one of those loud, wet, sloppy ones, where the contents of the nose became the unwanted contents of one's hands, and there was no choice but to wash the hands, or at least give them a good wipe down.

Duke sat, mortified, staring at the mess on his hand. He had no tissue. He'd used the last one while he was looking at his own reflection in the restroom.

Thank god nobody but him had been in there at the time.

But there were other people around now, and surely they could see his snotty hands and judge him accordingly. Surely they would not see him as a high status man of a small province that was about to conquer Monopolis.

Back on stage, the number ended. Bakura approached Joey in the wings behind the stage as the audience danced to a duet between Mai and Kaiba.

"Someone wants to invest in our shows," Bakura told him.

Joey's head perked up. "Who is it?" he asked excited.

"The Duke of Diceland."

Joey cocked his head. "Neva heard o' him."

"Well, he's the Duke. Of Diceland. Wherever that is. His assistant flashed the seal, so he must be legit."

"Wow." Joey chuckled incredulously. "I can't believe it. Royalty wants us? Is he here?" He ran to the door at the side of the stage to look out.

Bakura peered out into the crowd then up at the balcony. "He should be seated by now."

Joey squinted into the balcony level. "Where is he?"

Bakura looked up for the green-haired head of the assistant he'd met earlier. He saw Noah, watching and looking amused, while Yugi waved the toilet paper from Duke's shoe at him. Duke looked displeased to say the least.

"This was on your shoe," Yugi said. Then he looked at Duke's hand. "Ew…I don't suppose you could wipe it off with this?" He waved the one-ply toilet paper once more.

"He's the one Yugi is waving a tissue at," Bakura answered Joey, who was looking at the wrong end of the balcony.

Joey scanned his eyes over the balcony.

Upstairs, Yugi was back at his group's seats. "Does anyone have a tissue?"

The men dug in their pockets. Tristan pulled out an old packet of wet wipes.

"Is this okay?" He handed a wipe to Yugi.

"Perfect!" Yugi swished the wipe.

Back downstairs, Joey caught only this part of the exchange as Bakura was helping him unzip his bikini top. "Are you sure it's him?"

Bakura turned around from unzipping Joey. Yugi was now waving the wet wipe at Duke, who didn't look any happier.

"It's him, all right," Bakura responded. He tittered nervously as Joey slid into a new costume. "I hope he doesn't frighten him off too soon." Bakura exited the wings.

Joey looked back toward the crowd. "So Tristan's a Duke now? Da things you miss when your government falls apart."

Bakura ran back on stage. "Is everybody ready for Dancer's Choice?" he yelled to the audience.

"Yeah!" came the deafening reply.

"Come on! Back on the floor!" Yami jumped up from his chair. The rest followed. Tristan lagged a little, unsure if he could take any more excitement. By the time he met this Joey, he might need some smelling salts, maybe an electrolyte IV.

Joey, now in a green gingham pinafore, strode to the edge of the stage, where the audience members waited. "I spy wit' my little eye someone who wants to dance!" He extended his arm, straight out and swung it up like a lever (or something else that might swing upwards), his finger pointing at Tristan. "Schwing!"

Tristan's jaw dropped two inches. Make that smelling salts, an electrolyte IV, AND a defibrillator. Was this charming creature choosing him? He was so shocked when he discovered he could move his legs, he nearly had a heart attack right there.

He didn't and the dance proceeded without a hitch. Country-techno music blared from the speakers as everyone square danced.

"_If it hadn't been for Leather-Clad Joe,_

_I'd-a gone insane a long time ago._

_Where did you come from, where'd my pants go?_

_Where did you learn that, Leather-Clad Joe?"_ (3)

Bakura watched from the stage as the dancers danced with the customers. They'd be coming back for the next few nights, he could see that much. Probably all in their identical black berets and black vests, too. Despite their varying features and body types, they all looked remarkably similar in those outfits.

He noticed Joey do-si-doing with a tall, tanned man in a black beret and vest. "That Duke is certainly a good dancer. I would've thought the only dance he'd learn was one he could do with himself."

Tristan was glad he'd kept exercising after high school. Had he been in worse shape, he wouldn't be able to keep up with Joey. As it was, he was getting winded. Square dancing was harder than it looked.

"So what's up?"

There was a slight pause as Tristan realized Joey was talking to him. "Be cool. Don't spaz out. You went to school with this guy," he silently told himself.

"Um…I'm writing now."

They traded partners, then made their way back to each other.

"What kinda writin'?"

Crap. They were still talking about him. "Well, just any kind, really. Whatever kind keeps me off the street."

Joey laughed. "You're funny. Funnier than in high school."

Tristan happened to glance over at Yugi, who mouthed, "Dazzle him!"

Who did he think Tristan was, some kind of vampire?

"I write plays, and some poetry, but no one reads that." Maybe self-deprecating humor would get him to change the subject?

"Is it dat weird stuff about, like, clouds and rain? 'Cause if it is, I don't get it. Maybe you could explain it to me?"

They twirled. "Can't help you there. I don't get it either. My stuff is simple." Tristan thought a second. "Maybe that's why no one reads it."

"Huh. I'd like to hear it."

Tristan snorted. "Really?"

Joey was serious. "I mean it!"

"Well, I could come up for a private poetry reading later, if you want." Tristan made sure he put the emphasis on "private." Yugi had made it very clear that no one else was to be present at the reading since it would be taking place in a sardine can of a hotel room.

Joey grinned. "I'll rent a room, ya horndog."

Tristan assumed horndog was what all the cool kids were saying and left it at that. The slang people came up with baffled him to no end.

Too soon, the dance ended. The dancers went back onstage and the men sat back down. Joey climbed onto a glow-in-the-dark swing and the lights were dimmed for the show's finale.

"What did he say?" Yugi asked Tristan when they were back in the balcony.

"We're meeting for a poetry reading tonight," Tristan responded. "I hope I can impress him."

The swing levitated toward the balcony as Joey sang. His petticoat spread over his knees like a combination of clouds, silk, and butter. With less fat and cholesterol. Tristan couldn't believe the petticoat was plain cotton-or not butter.

_"Tecum domum ibo,"_ Joey sang. _"Omnia extares, ordo ab chao!"_

"I really have no idea what he's singing, but everything's cooler in Latin," Tristan thought, basking in the non sequiturs.

_"O, cogito ergo sum, e pluri…"_ (4)

Joey's voice trailed off. He wasn't afraid of heights, but he was suddenly very dizzy. And he couldn't breathe, which might be a bit of an obstacle.

Bakura froze. "What could be wrong?"

The hall was silent. Everyone's eyes were glued to the swing and Joey, whose grip on the swing grew shaky. Bakura prayed he was wrong about what was to happen next.

"NO!" Bakura screamed as Joey fainted and fell off the swing. His skirt flew up as he plummeted towards the stage. Kaiba bounded up onstage and caught him just in the nick of time.

-O-o-O-

The audience fell into a hushed, confused conversation as Kaiba carried Joey backstage to the dressing rooms.

"Dangerous stunt, much?" Tristan whispered to Yugi.

"That's actually not part of the show," Yugi whispered back, puzzled.

Everyone's eyes migrated to Bakura. Bakura stared back, his white hair wild. He looked around the room apprehensively, then shouted, "YEAH!" He forced his face into a triumphant expression. He could have won an award for his acting, if only they were that kind of performance art club.

Sure enough, everyone cheered and yelled back.

"Or maybe it was," Yugi said, not sounding so sure of himself.

"Huh. Hardcore." Tristan joined the applause. Everybody began to chant, "Top! Dog! Top! Dog!"

Backstage, Kaiba rather unceremoniously dumped Joey down on the cowhide print couch.

"C'mon mutt, wake up. It's creepy to undress you while you're unconscious," Kaiba said loudly, thumping Joey's forehead.

Mai stood behind the couch with Téa, another dancer. "I don't think the Duke'll be getting his 'happy ending' tonight."

"Mai, that's tasteless." Téa swatted Mai's arm. Mai flicked Téa's nose.

"Don't sugarcoat it. Everyone knows what kind of club we're at," Kaiba grumbled, heading out to get Serenity, the club supervisor and Joey's sister.

Back outside, Bakura stopped the chant, glancing fretfully at the doors to the dressing rooms. Everyone followed suit, wondering what was so interesting about some tin foil covered doors.

Bakura pirouetted to face the crowd, wearing a mock scolding expression. "Now look what you've done. You've gone and frightened him off!" He reprimanded, wagging his finger.

"Awww." The crowd feigned compunction.

"But I'm sure some of the other lovely dancers would love a partner or two, or three!" Bakura continued. He hopped on stage and pulled a giant red lever, lowering the disco ball, which reflected the flashing traffic lights. "So if you're freaky-deaky, you can get your freak on with them!"

Everyone cheered and the dance pop started up again. The dancers trotted out to the stage.

"Where is he?" Serenity asked, not waiting for an answer. "Is he all right?" She flew over to the couch. "Everything's okay, now, I'm here." She took out a small bottle and popped the cap under Joey's nose. Joey snorted, then shoved himself as far as he could in his weakened state.

"Well, that was easy," Serenity said, chuckling lightly, but anxiously. "Now comes the hard part." She pulled out a small tubular vial. Joey, who was beginning to come around, made a face at the vial.

"Come on, you have to take it. You've had that cough forever," Serenity urged.

Joey wrinkled his nose, but let Serenity pour it into his mouth. He took a while to swallow the liquid. "I've had much worse," he joked weakly.

Bakura burst into the room. "Is everything all right back here?"

Joey hoisted himself up. "I think I'll live. It's no big deal."

Bakura nodded wearily, then dashed back out to the hall.

Joey wasn't a foot from the couch when a coughing fit forced him back down. Serenity ran to his aid, grabbing a tissue box from a nearby table. Joey, too weak to do much else, collapsed on the arm of the couch. Serenity put a tissue by his mouth to catch any mucus. Her heart fell when she took it away, bloodied.

Outside in the hall, everyone was having a grand old time dancing under the strobe lights to a pop waltz.

_"Come one, come all rogue and loyal,_

_Lay down your troubles tonight._

_Bathe in the ocean of light!"_ (5)

-O-o-O-o-O-

I added Noah to the story to add even more conflict. This story is going to pretend that he didn't die, but just kept a low profile while living with his brothers. Either that, or he was somehow granted a body after he earned redemption during the Virtual Arc.


	3. Hellacious Fallaciousness

Disclaimer: I don't own _Yu-Gi-Oh_, its Abridged Series, _Moulin Rouge_, or the songs parodied in this story.

(1) To the tune of "Your Song" by Elton John.

(2) Toilette means grooming. Douche means shower. This is a pun with French words and what they sound like.

(3) To the tune of "Walk Like an Egyptian."

-O-o-O-o-O-

Joey was up and about later that night, much to everyone else's surprise.

"Well, Wheeler. Didn't think you'd make it," Kaiba remarked as he passed by Joey's dressing table.

"Me, not make it? Kaiba, you just don't know who you're dealin' wit'." Joey zipped up his black jeans and slid a green t-shirt over his head.

Serenity turned from her own table, next to Joey's. She was wiping the glitter off her cheeks and right now, the left half of her face looked normal while the right looked like a variety of Disney fairy. "The duke really seemed to like you," she gushed.

"I know! He's so easy ta talk to, not some snob, like I thought he'd be! And I think I kinda like him too." A faint blush (pink, but a manly pink) spread across his face as he admitted this. "If he likes our club enough to stick around and sink money into it, well…let's say we could write more den just a sub-par romance."

"I have no idea what that means, but this is a den of surrealism, so I'm just going to agree."

Meanwhile, Duke, his freshly washed and scented hands, and Noah hopped out of their purple Cadillac and walked briskly to a Mastodon-shaped hotel.

"Come, Noah, we mustn't keep the Top Dog waiting!" Duke called over his shoulder.

Noah sighed and prayed Duke wouldn't ask him to film his conquests this time. He couldn't bear another critique of his cinematography skills.

Tristan was already inside the Mastodon. Everything about this city was strange. He should have expected this, but it still came as a shock that a building called the Pink Mastodon existed. He was presently making his way to room 101, located in the ass end of the Mastodon—literally. He hoped this wasn't an omen.

He was early, which was good. Or was it? Maybe it was poor decorum to be early for things like this. Maybe early was bad, late was great, bad meant good, up was down…Forget it, he was here and that was all that mattered.

He was looking through the tinted peephole in the door when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He screamed and jumped a foot in the air, then felt like an utter fool when he turned around and saw Joey standing there, grinning at him.

"Where…?" Tristan managed to choke out.

"Came in thru da bathroom window." Joey wheeled off to the bed and bounced slightly on it. "Ain't dis a great place for a poetry readin'?"

"Yeah. It's…really something." Tristan took a few seconds to recover from his mild shock. He needed a few more after seeing Joey from a distance. The man was wearing a green shirt and if his shorts were any shorter, he'd…well, he'd have some issues with coverage and a few other things, that's what.

He caught a whiff of something unfamiliar, a sweet and smoky scent. Perhaps it was some sort of foreign perfume. Whatever it was, Tristan liked it. It made his head feel light and fuzzy, and he felt his muscles unravel like the bottoms of Joey's black shorts.

It didn't take long for him to laugh inwardly at his earlier scare. It was pretty funny, actually, provided Joey wasn't a serial murderer, killing the occupants of every third hotel room in the Mastodon. Were he not so nervous, he probably would've laughed then and there. Hell, had he been in Joey's place, he might have done the same thing. Perhaps that was what drew Tristan to Joey in the first place; under the strobe lights and outlandish costumes, they were more alike than they thought.

Feeling secure that his attraction was not merely superficial, Tristan turned back to marvel at how the light glanced off Joey's posterior as he got up to go to the table by the bed. A lovely chiaroscuro, he thought; it reminded him of the Classical sculptures he'd seen in the Renaissance section of his textbooks from school. The contrast of the black fabric on pale skin was a nice form of juxtaposition, too; it really made the image more dynamic. This, in Tristan's lower mind, translated roughly to, "Damn, he be FINE!"

Joey wasn't the only one making use of the window.

"We can see them better from here," Yami whispered to Yugi and Mokuba as they scaled the left buttock of the Mastodon. The three of them hid on the balcony on either side of the door and peered in through the louver shutters to monitor the progress of the meeting.

"Would you like a drink?" Joey asked, drawing in the condensation on the bottle with his finger. "Maybe some Abysmalinth?"

Tristan shook his head. "I'm trying to quit."

Joey went back to the bed. "Yeah, I don't really care for it eitha."

"To be honest, I think I'd like to jump right into it."

Joey waved his hand. "Oh, yeah, sure. Shoot."

Tristan started to recite, but Joey was more than just a little bit distracting. Whatever effects the "perfume" had on Tristan were wearing off.

"If you don't mind, I think I'll need some time to warm up," he said, taking off his beret.

"Dat's totally fine wit' me." Joey lay back, arms behind his head.

"Okay." Tristan turned around and took a few yoga breaths. He'd never in his life actually done yoga, but what the hell? If breathing helped distract him from Joey's legs and thoughts of what he could do with them…oh, dear god, this wasn't going to work, was it?

"Are you okay?" Joey sat up as Tristan's breathing got louder and faster. "You're gonna hyperventilate."

"I just need some more time. I'm working up the nerve. It's kind of my first time," Tristan gasped. Against his best efforts, his breathing did not slow down. Joey grabbed a paper bag off the wooden spool night table and put it over Tristan's head.

"Breathe into da bag, Tristan!"

Tristan began to calm down once he realized that firstly, he was not hyperventilating, and secondly, the bag would do him no good if he were.

A knowing look passed over Joey's face; Tristan could hear it in his voice. "Oh. I get it now." He heard Joey slide off the bed and approach him. "Maybe I could help."

Tristan found himself flying through the air and landing on the bed with a fluff. The bag was whipped off to reveal Joey grinning like a wolf in a sheep flock.

"Don'tcha wanna make like we're animals?" Joey asked huskily, pinning Tristan down.

"Wait, what?" Tristan tried to shrink into the bedclothes. He was certain he could fry an egg on his face. "Right now?"

"Dere's no time like da present." Joey slid Tristan's black vest off. He gaped at Tristan's toned biceps. "Oh, you dog, you!" He began to howl like a wolf during a full moon in a bad fantasy movie. Tristan tried to get out from under Joey, but shock seemed to immobilize him once again.

Tristan felt a draft on his legs, which was almost welcome, considering the circumstances, until he realized his pants were down.

"Dey don't call me Leatha-Clad Joe for nothin'." Joey winked. And to think Tristan had thought those brown eyes looked so innocent.

The three men watching from the balcony goggled at the scene.

"He's got a huge-" Yami began.

The other two turned to him, still gaping.

"Talent!" Yami whispered hastily. "I was definitely going to say talent."

"Gimme all your poetry, right now!" Joey screeched.

"All right! All right!" Tristan shoved Joey to the side and stood up. He pulled up his pants and recited, "It's real simple, the way that I feel. I'll give it to you straight, 'cause I'm keepin' it real."

Joey cocked his head, thoroughly confused. Tristan matched his expression. "Isn't this what you want?"

He could see the understanding form on Joey's face. "Yeah. Yeah! Talk dirty to me!"

Tristan continued. "I'm not about the Benjamins, but if I was, I'd have you iced out to show all my love."

Tristan paused. Joey, paper bag on head, was rolling around on the bed and moaning as if he were possessed with the god of low budget porn acting. Tristan, not being well-versed enough in acting to tell it was bad, started to smile as he went on.

"I may not be ballin', but just give me the time. I'm accustomed to nickels, you're surely a dime!"

Joey had slid off the bed and was dragging himself, on his butt, across the floor in front of the bed, continuing to terribly fake it.

"If I could just holla, no wait, that's not right. If I was your man, we could really be tight. I'm not usually soft, but whenever you're near…"

Joey was back on the bed, pounding on it and panting, "Talk harda, fasta, louda!" The paper bag was shredded all to hell.

Tristan, on a wave of new energy, burst into song.

_"My voice gives me strength!"_

Joey was still. The tie-dye bedcovers hung over his face, partially obscuring his surprised expression.

Tristan continued, _"And now we're standing here._

_I don't care who knows that this song's for you._

_I could shout it from the mountaintops, it's just that true._

_I gotta tell you, I gotta tell you_

_What's going on in my head._

_How glorious life is because we're not dead."_

Joey sat up, mesmerized by Tristan's powerful singing. It was the same effect one would get if they waved a pendulum shaped like a doughnut in front of his face.

_"I went to the Lolmart for an hour or three._

_But this little ditty just wouldn't let my mind be._

_But the greeters sent some new vibes my way._

_Gave me inspiration when they said 'Have a super day!'"_

Joey stood up, and walked over to Tristan, feeling lighter than air. He, too, knew of the enthusiasm with which Lolmart greeters did their jobs. And here was a man who captured perfectly both their feelings in song! Could it be love?

_"I may be forgetful; I'm no elephant._

_But I'm quite certain that my memories aren't scant._

_What I'm trying to say here is-I've hit a brick wall._

_You're much more handsome than I recall!"_

Joey and Tristan took each other's hands and twirled around the room. The sky outside the window was a clear dark electric blue and the moon was porcelain white. The stars took the form of blue and white fairies, floating about and harmonizing. The three men on the balcony joined in. A soft breeze blew in, rustling the men's hair around their faces.

"So dreamy…" Joey thought as Tristan's hair refused to yield to the tyrannical wind.

Tristan was singing full voice, not caring who heard:

_"I don't care who knows that this song's for you._

_I could shout it from the mountaintops, it's just that true._

_I gotta tell you, I gotta tell you_

_What's going on in my head._

_How glorious life is because we're not dead!"_ (1)

Joey stared into Tristan's brown eyes, swearing he saw fireworks. Either that, or the medicinal joint he'd had earlier hadn't fully worn off. That had to be the most beautiful song Joey had ever heard. The fact that Joey's experience with music was mostly with the music at the club mattered not one whit.

"Your voice makes you supa seductive," he drawled, falling slightly into Tristan's arms. "I can't believe I'm in love wit' a talented, handsome, not totally self-absorbed duke."

"Duke?"

Joey opened his eyes. "Yeah, what else would you be?"

"But…I'm not a duke. I'm a writer." Tristan was puzzled. Were they role-playing now?

By the blank expression on Joey's face, Tristan figured he was just as confused. "Er, Yugi arranged for me to give a poetry reading in this room, tonight, and…" He trailed off. Joey was still giving him that dull look, but maybe it took a while for his facial expression to register on his face.

"Durr…what?" Why was his durr face so charming?

"I think there's been a misunderstanding." Tristan nervously glanced toward the door. "I think I've been mistaken for someone else."

"Wait…Yugi set this up?" Joey now looked genuinely horrified. "Please tell me Yugi hasn't turned you into some oh-so-talented, tragically impoverished hipster writer."

Tristan felt a huge drop of sweat beading on his neck. "Well, maybe…"

Joey looked as if Tristan had just told him he was inviting Hannibal Lector for a threesome. "Oh, god, run as fast as you can away from here."

"Why?"

Joey was twitching as though he'd mainlined the coffee on the front desk. "Da musical director. He…does things wit' da ones who disagree with him…" Joey's eyes darted all over the room. "Da last writer was neva found. Da one before dat…" Joey shuddered. "Gorgonzola cheese gives me da creeps now."

Tristan slowly backed away. The window wasn't too high off the ground; he could climb down if needed. He was even gladder that Pegasus had left, hearing this.

"Wait a minute…Duke, Diceland…Oh, no!" Tristan jumped at Joey's voice.

"What.."

"Da real duke! He's comin' here! Tonight!" Joey flew over to the bed to check the clock on the low night table. "He's gonna be here any second! And he's gonna be pissed if he catches you here!"

Tristan barely had time to ask what was going on before Joey dragged him to the table with the black and white checkered tablecloth in front of the bed. "Hide back here. He'll neva think ta look behind da table, wit' da mirror right dere!"

There was a knock on the door. Joey went to answer it.

Duke was leaning against the door's jamb in a way that he must have found sexy. To Joey, it looked more like he was trying to scratch his butt on it. The man's black hair was slicked back into a ponytail with so much grease, you could fry chicken with it. His tight pants revealed that his phone and keys were in his front pockets and his black sleeveless polo shirt with the popped collar revealed his fashion influences. His trucker hat was rotated forty-five degrees, the angle of optimum irony.

Joey swallowed a laugh. This guy had actually once wanted to date his sister. Bakura popped out from behind Duke.

"Isn't that sweet? The Duke got all dressed up for you!"

Joey tried to shape his smirk into a smile. "Sweet. Sure."

"What's inside the clothes is even sweeter," Duke purred to match his Cheshire cat on crack grin. Tristan nearly ruptured his spleen trying to stifle himself.

"I'll leave you two crazy kids to have fun with each other!" With that, Bakura seemed to teleport down the hall.

Duke shut the door while Joey went to the bed. He sat down and began to mentally psych himself up for what was sure to be a very interesting session. At least if Duke was as pompous as the vibes he gave off, it'd be somewhat entertaining. He glanced over at the table and did a double take-Tristan's hair stuck up over the side of the table.

And then Duke saw the bottles in the ice bucket and said, "Ooh, Abysmalinth!"

Joey sprung up to stop him. "Don't!"

Duke looked up. "Don't what?"

"Er…Ya don't want Abysmalinth, do ya?" Joey chuckled. "A classy guy like you probably has a more refined taste, don'tcha?"

Duke looked amused. "No, not really." He turned back to the table.

"Hey!" Joey yelled to distract him.

Duke turned around again. "What?"

Joey sniffed the air. "What's da name of your cologne?" He did his best to look intrigued. "It's really sexy."

Duke stared, wondering why, if Joey thought his cologne was sexy, he looked so confused. "It's Eau de Douche. Sort of like Eau de Toilette, but just a little better." He turned back to the table. (2)

Joey leapt at Duke, who was perfectly calm. He'd been preparing himself for when young women (and men) would throw themselves at his well-groomed feet. At long, long, long last, it had finally happened.

He was very surprised when Joey began to rap.

"It's real simple, da way dat I feel. I'll give it to ya straight 'cause I'm keepin' it real."

Duke cocked his head. It had a certain urban appeal to it. Very fresh. "Yes?" he said, expectantly.

"I may not be ballin', but just give me da time. I'm accustomed ta nickels, but boy, you're a dime!"

Duke felt a small smile forming on his face, despite his confusion. No one had ever thought so highly of him to compare him to currency. Except when Noah told him his cologne smelled like a shower of gold, but that really didn't count.

Joey hoped this last touch would do the trick. He stood up, singing, as he looked Duke dead in the eyes:

_"I gotta tell you, I gotta tell you_

_What's goin' on in my head._

_How glorious life is because we're not dead!"_

Duke's eyes glowed. Joey jumped.

"Your eyes! Dey're radioactive! Oh my gawd, you're a mutant, aren't you?"

"No, no!" Duke tittered. "Of course I'm not a mutant. I'm just…stunned by your song!"

Joey beamed. "Like it? It's from 'Awesome Flotsam.'" He twirled Duke's black tendrils. "Y'know, bein' here wit' you brings a whole new meanin' to dose words: life is truly glorious when we're not in a box unda six feet o' dirt." He moved in closer, his arms around Duke's shoulders.

Duke wrapped his arms around Joey's waist. "Do you not care for being together in small places?"

Tristan wasn't so naïve that he couldn't guess what was coming next. He quietly crept toward the door. The Duke's attention was fully on Joey.

"Like what kinda small places?" Joey asked, stroking Duke's temples.

Duke rotated his hat another forty degrees. "Ever done it in a closet?"

Joey raised an eyebrow, interested.

"Perfect place to store _unused_ clothes." Duke winked.

Tristan slid over to the door and turned the knob as quietly as he could. Almost there…

Then the door made a sound that might as well have been an air horn.

Joey threw himself on the bed, pounding the mattress and crying, "Brooklyn lust! Brooklyn lust!" Duke, being slightly more interested in the scene he was causing than the door, did not turn around.

"What is this all about?" Duke asked, trying to mask his pride at having reduced the Top Dog to frenzy with just his appearance.

"Don't you 'what's dis all about' me!" Joey cried. Yeah, lay it on thick. " Can't you see da effect you're havin' on me? You're killin' me, Duke! Killin' me wit' ya hotness!" Lay it on REAL thick.

Duke grinned, swaggering over to the bed. "Well, I do try to tone it down, but there are no guarantees it'll work…" He chucked his trucker cap on the table. It landed perfectly on the neck of the Abysmalinth bottle.

Tristan, while trying to suppress his guffaws, had to admit that Joey was a pretty good actor.

Joey sprang up and grabbed Duke by the shoulders. "Let's do it," he whispered, pulling Duke down onto the bed. Tristan scampered past the two onto the balcony and hid with the party of three spies. He stared. They shrugged.

"We had to make sure everything went smoothly," Yugi explained.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "So…You decided to watch me potentially have sex with my best friend?"

"Sounded like a good idea at the time," Yami muttered.

Back inside, Joey pushed Duke away before they could even get their pants off.

"No. We should wait," he said, sliding to the far end of the bed.

"What, wait? Until when?" Duke fixed his ponytail.

"Until openin' night. We can't do it now." Joey smoothed his hair. "I-I need time ta practice controllin' myself. It's like when you need ta work up a tolerance to somethin'." He crawled back over to Duke. "You're like my own personal crack."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "Am I that irresistible?" It was more of a statement than a question, and then, more of a statement rehearsed in the bathroom mirror than a spontaneous one.

"Yes. So we gotta wait until openin' night." Joey wagged his finger, mock authoritatively. "All right?"

Duke stood up. "As you wish." He swaggered over to the door, then out, rubbing his thumbs over his popped collar as he exited.

Tristan came back in, seeing that the coast was clear.

"Jeez, dat was too close." Joey ran his hands through his hair. He turned to Tristan. "Your ass woulda been grass if he'd found you."

Tristan snorted. "That guy, beating me up? Seriously?"

"Seriously." Joey was breathless. "He's much stronga den he looks. You saw him just now—don't act like you weren't watchin'—he damn near wore me out!"

Joey did seem a bit tired, judging by his breathing. And the sweat beading on his forehead.

And the forward, downward direction toward Tristan he was taking.

Tristan caught Joey as he fainted. "Oh, crap."

-O-o-O-

Meanwhile, Bakura squinted through binoculars in the window of the motel across the street.

"So far so good," he commented. The tall man was holding Joey in a rather romantic embrace. Joey just melted into his arms like cheese on a hot plate of chips. They were sure to get a hefty donation out of this one.

Back at the Mastodon, Tristan gave up on trying to rouse Joey and figured he could just sleep it off. He dragged him over to the bed. He happened to trip and fall right on top of Joey just as the door opened and in walked Duke.

"I forgot my cap-whoa, what exactly is going on here?" Duke jumped back when he saw the scene.

"Um, well," Tristan began as Joey regained consciousness.

"Duke! Can't start da party without you," he joked as Tristan scrambled up.

Duke looked from Tristan to Joey. So they were going to have to fight over another Wheeler. He snatched his cap from the bottle and jerked it down onto his head, sniffing indignantly. "It's real simple, the way I feel." He tossed his ponytail for good measure.

"Duke, you gots da flow! And here's da guy who wrote it." He sat up next to Tristan, who had figured it was futile to run away now. "We were just rehearsin' da play it's from."

"Oh, really?" Duke crossed his arms.

"Yeah, really."

Duke narrowed his eyes. "No way."

The balcony doors flew open and Yugi entered. "How's the rehearsal going?" Mokuba and Yami followed close behind.

Bakura in his hotel room saw the room filling up like Disneyworld on New Year's Day. "What the bloody hell is all that?" He grabbed his jacket and dashed out the door.

Duke could only stare as Mokuba fiddled with the buttons on his keytar.

"So this is the creative team?" Duke asked, still a little incredulous.

Mokuba nodded. "Aren't they great?"

Yami was falling asleep. Joey poked him. Yami glared and flicked Joey's nose, and Joey thumped him back. Tristan separated them and banished them to opposite ends of the bed. The two kicked at each other while Yugi grabbed their feet and tried to hold them down. All through this, Yugi and Tristan pretended to be discussing the play they were supposedly rehearsing.

Duke turned back to Mokuba. "They're really…something."

Bakura ripped open the door. "What the devil is going on here?"

"S'okay, Bakura. Duke knows all about da emergency rehearsal," Joey said. "He's down wit' Tristan's script and he wants ta invest in it."

"Invest?" A bell sounded in Bakura's head and it resembled that of a cash register. "Of course! Of course you want to invest."

"Well, maybe." Duke feigned aloofness.

"Why don't we go back to my office to write up the paperwork?" Bakura suggested. He was halfway out the door when Duke cleared his throat and said, "Wait a minute."

Everyone turned to look at Duke.

"Shouldn't I know the story before we start that?"

Bakura chuckled nervously. "Yes, that'd probably be a good idea. Well, it's about…" He drew a blank. "Yugi what's the story about again?" he asked quickly.

"Well, it's a really cutting edge play. It's called 'Awesome Flotsam.' And it probably won't go too over our usual audience's head."

"What is it about, though?" Duke pressed.

"Er…It's about…"

"It's about love!" Tristan piped up.

"Love?" Duke said the word as if Tristan had just told him it was about the mating patterns of box turtles.

Tristan paid him no mind. "Love that passes the test of time." Stars glimmered in his eyes. "And doesn't even have to study for it."

"It's set in Scotland!" Yugi chimed in. Mokuba began to play "Loch Lomond" on his keytar.

Duke cocked his head. "Scotland?"

"Egypt, then, it's set in ancient Egypt!" Tristan quickly put in.

"Yes, Egypt!" Yugi nodded.

"And there's this male courtesan, named…um…Joe-hotep. Yeah. And his kingdom gets hijacked by the Pharaoh's evil brother, who wanted the throne all for himself. He had his own little political faction set up, like the Rebels, only they're evil and-"

"Where is the love?" Bakura reminded.

"Oh, yeah, the courtesan. Well, he has to seduce the evil brother to save the kingdom, but he mistakes a duelist for the new Pharaoh. He wasn't trying to trick him." Tristan glanced up at Joey, who was listening intently. "He was dressed that way because he…he…bought all his clothes at the second-hand bazaar and the Pharaoh goes through them like he goes through tissues."

"Did they have thrift stores back then?" Mokuba wondered aloud. Nobody knew enough to answer.

"I'll play the penniless, riverdancing duelist!" Yami jumped up. "He will duel well, at least, but step! Like a beast!"

"Did they have riverdancing back then?" Duke wondered aloud. Nobody cared enough to answer.

"So the duelist and the courtesan have to hide their love from the evil Pharaoh," Tristan said. "But there's just one problem: one of the monsters, the Dark Magician, likes to come to life. And when he does, he can only speak the truth."

"Sounds like someone's drug-induced fanfiction," Mokuba muttered.

"I'll play the Dark Magician!" Yugi put in. He swept a hand over his face to get into character and walked up to Joey. "You are from Brooklyn," he said in a sonorous voice, wielding an invisible staff. He walked up to Bakura. "You are British," he said in the same sonorous voice. He turned to Duke. "And you are clearly from Bumblefu-" Yami clapped a hand over Yugi's mouth. "He was about to say Bumblefort. It's a really lovely place, perhaps you've been?" Yami quickly explained.

Duke let his sideways glance at Yugi linger a little before turning back to Tristan. "So the Dark Magician rats out the duelist," he deduced.

"Very good, Duke!" Joey clapped.

"And there's music, of course," Yugi added.

Mokuba started a typically eighties riff on his keytar and flipped a switch to add a beat to his chords. Bakura began to sing:

_"The dead Pharaohs in the pyramids,_

_They played the card games, don't you know._

_Then it caught on quick (oh whey oh),_

_They're doing it here in Domino."_

Yugi took over as Yami danced in the background:

_"All the bizarre hair shields their heads_

_From shadow magic of the mind._

_Gold Puzz 3-D (oh whey oh),_

_It helps a man win when stakes are high."_

Yugi twirled a gold umbrella like a baton.

_"Pseudo god with a golden rod_

_Say, 'Hey oh, Yu-gi-oh, hey oh whey oh.'"_

Everyone sang the last line:

_"Play like an Egyptian."_

Duke looked interested, but only mildly. "And the plot?"

Everyone paused, then scrambled to grab the correct props (not easy, given the setting). Joey wrapped the tie-dye bed sheet around him like a tunic and used a pad of jumbo post-its as a fan. Yami tied his cape-jacket around his waist like a shendyt kilt. Tristan pulled up a chair and sang the story:

_"The courtesan and duelist were apart,_

_An evil plot broke the duelist's heart."_

Joey sang:

_"But he heard his song (oh whey oh),_

_And he knew dere love was just too strong."_

Everyone sang:

_"All the Johns and their hired persons_

_Say, 'Hey oh Yu-gi-oh, hey oh whey oh.'_

_Play like an Egyptian."_

Tristan continued as Joey and Yami pantomimed the lyrics.

_"The lovers hear the secret song,_

_It helps them to flee the evil one._

_He rants and rails (oh whey oh),_

_But his rage is to no avail."_ (3)

"I am the evil Pharaoh!" Bakura popped up from behind the table they were using as a stage, wearing his black jacket as a cape and his hair fluffed up like albino bat wings in flight. Everyone began bowing to him to give Duke an idea of his power. "Resistance is futile!" Duke chuckled. He was a fan of the Borg.

"No one plays him better den you, Bakura!" Joey exclaimed.

"And no one's going to," Bakura said, tossing his hair back to reveal a large gold ring dangling from his right ear.

Mokuba played them out as they all lapped Duke's chair, doing the Egyptian walk.

"Generally, I like it," Duke said. Everyone cheered.

-O-o-O-o-O-


	4. Desperately Seeking Duke's Dollars

The beginnings of an explanation for why the characters are in this mess are here.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Yu-Gi-Oh_, its Abridged Series, _Moulin Rouge_, or any of the songs parodied in this story. I don't even own a bottle of Absinthe.

(1) To the tune of "Dragostea Din Tei" by O-zone (the "Numa Numa" song).

(2) To the tune of "Witch in the Ditch" by Erasure. (I love it so much, I parodied it twice.)

-O-o-O-o-O-

Of course they had to celebrate. Of course they had to have Abysmalinth.

In the apartment upstairs, everyone else was having a wonderful time licking the walls and seeing pink elephants and white dragons. Tristan abstained. He had to get to work on a full-length script so Duke could read it in a few days, and he did want to write something coherent.

He was running up against a few blocks. How exactly do the duelist and courtesan fall in love? They couldn't very well be all over each other at first sight; that was just stupid. And why did the evil Pharaoh brother want a courtesan so badly? Why did the courtesan have to save the kingdom? Did this courtesan have some magical powers that could stop the evil Pharaoh or something? Perhaps he was related to the dead, rightful Pharaoh.

Tristan scrunched up his nose at the implications of that. "I need a break." He went out to his fire escape with his pipe, kicking away the dead rats by the door.

Across the alley, Joey sat in his own apartment. He cared neither for the taste of Abysmalinth nor the feeling of plaster in his tonsils, so he chose not to go to the party.

It was all well and good to stay at the club and do art pieces and trade the occasional favor for donations for the rest of his life. Except it wasn't. He didn't want to be stuck in Domino all his life. Bless them, they tried, but the HeighHoGoodBi Black Dragon Palace was, for all its glitter, a dump. It was a dump in a little dump city that had been going downhill since the fall of the House of Duelists.

"What was so wrong wit' duelin'? Why did everyone just…stop?" Joey often wondered, the way he did now. Dueling used to be so honorable and exciting. Everyone was doing it, all over the world. Now, duels were relegated to a public access channel available only in Domino, Monopolis, and Yahtzee Town, and the cards were barely good for bookmarks (and sartorial creations). Dice games were the way of the world now.

But Joey had other ideas. He still had his deck. He remembered the rules (old and new) quite clearly. He could start a revolution.

He could bring dueling back.

"If only I could leave dis place." He sank onto the worn window seat. "Domino City is cheap, but otha places aren't." He heard the door close in the adjacent apartment. "And what about Serenity? I can't just leave her in dis hole."

He drew in the dirt on the windowsill and sang absently.

_"Wanna be_

_Somewhere new._

_But all I got_

_Is not enough."_

Tristan craned his neck to hear the plaintive song. "Here's some emotion," he thought, taking note of Joey's defeated figure in the window.

Joey continued:

_"I know it's you_

_I love; not Duke._

_But I can't go._

_Away from here_

_Without feelin' some fear."_

Tristan was so moved, he joined in softly:

_"I know. I know._

_I, too, long to go_

_From these streets."_

Tristan and Joey plunked themselves down, Joey on the floor, Tristan on the windowsill. They sang an unknowing duet:

_"Life's got me beat_

_Like a punching bag of meat."_

Joey snapped up. What the hell was he doing, basking in woe-is-me thinking? He was going to start his duelist revolution, even if he had to go to the ends of the earth to find a working duel disk. Though, going to Kaiba might be easier. And cheaper—Kaiba got mighty desperate after the fall of the House.

Joey, with his new energy, ran up to the roof. Who cared if he was singing with the toilets? He was going to let the world know it couldn't keep Joey Wheeler down.

_"Spread my wings and truly fly away._

_Neva could I stay_

_In dis town for all my days._

_Can't pull me down neva, no, no way._

_To da west, I'll fly away."_

Tristan strolled across the scaffolding to the roof of Joey's building. He sat down on a toilet and sang:

_"Ain't it strange, he wants to fly away._

_Thought I'd done the same,_

_Turns out all my plans were lame._

_Never has a single sunshine ray_

_Fallen on me until today."_ (1)

Tristan looked up at Joey, who was standing on a toilet basin, arms outstretched. "Hi."

Joey jumped a little, then turned around to look at Tristan with a sheepish look. "Hey."

"So do you come here often?" Tristan asked, leaning on the back of the toilet.

"Yeah, a few times a day." Joey sat down on the edge of the toilet. "So what brings you here dis fine evening?"

"I wanted to thank you for helping me get that writing job," Tristan hurried before either of them could make any more awkward toilet comments.

Joey grinned. "It was nothin'."

"No, really. I swear, if I had to write one more non-story for that newspaper, I think I was gonna throw myself off the Mastodon."

"Dat'd be pretty hard to do, since you'd neva seen it before last night."

Tristan wrinkled his brows. "How did you know it was my first time last night?"

"I'm psychic."

Tristan nearly fell off the toilet trying not to laugh. "What?"

"Not really. You just looked so shocked by everythin', I figga'd you'd probably neva seen anythin' like it before."

Tristan slid off the toilet. "Am I really that much of a tourist?"

"Just wit' dat. You seemed like you fit in pretty well at da Black Dragon."

"To tell you the truth, I was kind of overwhelmed. I could get used to it though. I'll have to get used to it, if I'm going to do this show."

"It takes a while." Joey sat down next to Tristan on the floor and stared straight ahead. "By da third day, you don't even realize you're naked."

Tristan gaped, until he remembered his conversation about Yugi with the kazoos. "Is it…bad at first?"

"Nah. It's for da art, y'know?" Joey snickered. "I still laugh when I watch videos of da first show we did naked. It wasn't like, porn or anythin', but we had to rip off our clothes, give a speech, and stomp on 'em…Somethin' about dem representin' da Man and oppression. Dis was shortly after da fall of Duelin', and some of us were still pretty sore about it. Anyway, I guess some of us were sorer den othas, 'cause Moneybags…" Joey snickered again. "He took his part furtha. He ripped off his pants and just started tearin' into dem wit' his teeth, all while screamin' about card games." Joey barked out a laugh. "Crazy shit, dude."

Tristan wondered how they eventually turned to sexual favors, but knew it wasn't his place to ask. It just wasn't right to talk about things like that. Plus, he could sort of figure out how. He hadn't been aware of how badly the fall of Dueling had affected everyone; Yahtzee couldn't keep up with Domino even with a ten-year head start. He shuddered to think of how it must have been shortly after the fall.

Joey must've shared the awkward mood. "Well, I should go. We both have a big day tomorrow and I wouldn't wanna keep you up." He got up and started back down.

"Wait." Tristan stood.

Joey stopped. "Yeah?"

"Earlier when you thought I was Duke, you said you were in love. Were you serious?"

Joey shifted anxiously on his feet. "Well…no. To be honest, I'm not even sure if I can fall in love. Or if I want to."

Tristan was floored. "Whaddya mean you can't fall in love? Love is like food, love is a many-faceted jewel!"

A giant sweat drop formed on Joey's head. "Let's not get carried away here."

Tristan went on, getting louder. "Love lifts us up above the fray. Love is all we need!"

"Loving hell, let me go in peace!" They heard Yami shout from the adjacent roof.

Joey turned his head away. "Love is just a house of cards. Build it, and someone's gonna come and blow it ova. And den kill da cards altogetha."

Tristan decided the correct response in this situation would be to hop on top of the toilet and sing.

_"How could I ever reside in a world_

_Where nobody listens to their hearts?_

_I've looked and I've wandered far from where I've come_

_In search of a fire to start."_

Joey rolled his eyes and started for the door. He couldn't let Tristan start that fire; his emotional fire extinguisher was currently malfunctioning. He also had to bar the door in case Tristan was talking about literally committing arson.

Tristan leapt in front of the door to the stairs, singing:

_"There must be more to life."_

Joey retorted:

_"Don't make me turn around."_

Tristan sidled up to Joey, singing:

_"How can you fly away_

_With feet stuck on the ground?"_

Joey tried his best to keep his back to Tristan. He managed to keep facing the other direction just long enough so that by the time he turned around, Tristan was twirling between the two toilets. Joey couldn't help but smile.

Tristan stopped and sat down on the toilet to catch his breath while singing:

_"Ideas may be misbegotten_

_But I think I've got it right."_

Joey shook his head, half snickering, half singing:

_"Boy, you are dreamin', all right."_

Tristan jumped up again, singing:

_"I can't bear the thought of no love when_

_It's cold and lonely at night."_

Tristan looked over his shoulder at the city below.

_"Thank god I'm not scared of heights."_

He seemed to be winning Joey over. Joey laughed at that last line, then tried so hard to toughen up when Tristan grinned at him. Joey crossed his arms and raised his chin to look impassive. But he and Tristan were engaged in a sort of waltz, stepping back and forth around the door. That made his tough act very difficult to maintain, to say the least.

Joey sighed, letting his shoulders and arms drop, singing:

_"Son of a bitch; ain't love just like a ditch._

_You always think you'll neva fall in._

_Den you start stumblin' and soon you'll be tumblin',_

_And den you hear voices callin'…"_

Tristan twirled Joey, then dipped him as they both sang:

_"One day we'll fly away_

_Oh, never to be found."_

Joey broke away. How could he fall so easily for a few pop-waltzy lines? He turned to Tristan singing:

_"How do I know it's not misbegotten,_

_What if you're tellin' all lies?"_

Tristan slid over, singing:

_"You don't, but I swear on my life._

_Oh, to you I will be faithful,_

_I won't leave you high and dry."_

He and Joey tangoed toward the door, the sounds of toilets flushing on neighboring roofs providing the beat of their duet:

_"We're flying high as a kite!"_

The Abysmalinth-drunk partygoers overhearing below swayed to the beat. "Look at the colors and lights!" they sang.

Tristan and Joey tangoed around the toilets for a last burst of singing:

_"It's too good to be misbegotten._

_This is no trick or mind lie."_

Kaiba, who was on a nearby roof, cleansing himself of the Abysmalinth, muttered under his breath, _"Are they gonna do this all night?"_

Joey and Tristan paid him no mind and continued their tango-waltz and duet:

_"Oh, to you I will be loyal._

_I'll never tell you goodbye._

_Not without a decent fight!"_ (2)

Joey and Tristan stopped in front of the door to the stairs.

"You know you're a madman, right?" Joey chuckled.

Tristan pecked him.

-O-o-O-

The next day, Bakura sat in his office, waiting for Duke. He couldn't print the contract until Duke came to review its terms. Ink was too expensive to have to do a reprint for a one-line difference. As it was, he was surfing the net on the ancient white box that Kaiba had fished out of the trash and fixed after the Fall. A few years ago, he would have laughed at the antique computers and the rotary phones they'd been reduced to using. Now he didn't bat an eye if someone asked for a quarter to use the payphone or complained about dial-up.

Had dueling really been so important to their old world?

"Bakura."

Bakura looked up to see Kaiba standing in the doorway.

"Oh, hello there, Kaiba."

Kaiba stomped to him, swished his slightly worn coat out of the way, and plunked himself down on the desk. His eyes bored into Bakura's like two very annoyed lasers.

"Are we seriously going to do this? With Duke?" He swung one leg over the other.

"We have to. Unless we do something, this place is going to go under. And both of us will be down and out-again." Bakura twiddled a pen with his forefingers.

Kaiba turned and folded his arms. "I don't trust him. He's part of the reason we all went under in the first place."

Bakura sighed. "One, you don't trust anyone. Two, he couldn't have known the rise of his Diceland empire would fell the House of Duelists. And three, he's willing to pay up front, in cash. No checks that could bounce, no credit, cold hard cash. His influence could take us much further than we'd get on our own. We'd be fools not to give him a cut of the business, and you of all people should know that."

"I should've known in advance about the fall of Dueling and figured out how to get out before the crash, and you see how that turned out." Kaiba snorted. "Where the hell did you get all that money, anyway? I set the price of Kaibaland in the clouds for a reason."

"I'm not entirely sure." Bakura trailed off, his index finger absently tracing the huge ring dangling from his ear. "But it's really not all that important now, is it? Aren't you the one who hates the past?"

"I'm thinking of the future. How do we know Duke's not going to crush us all again?"

"We don't. But isn't business about taking risks?"

Kaiba narrowed his eyes. He was a near impossible sell, but he was also desperate. He slid off the desk. "Let's get this over with, then," he growled, sounding uncharacteristically subdued. "Bad enough my own brother works for him."

"Times are hard. Noah had to take work where he could find it." Bakura gave a start when Kaiba went over to the computer and printed the document. "We're supposed to wait for Duke's approval-"

"Screw Duke's approval; he can take what he gets." Kaiba snatched up a pen and practically slashed his signature into the paper.

"Well, I can be very persuasive." Bakura dragged a fingernail across the ring, producing a sharp chime. He signed the contract on the line below Kaiba's signature.

Shortly after Kaiba left to watch them from the observation room next door ("I value my sanity-and my lunch," he'd sneered), Duke sailed in. Bakura could understand what Kaiba meant when he made that crack about his lunch; he smelled Duke before he saw him.

"So Duke, we've printed out the paperwork and everything," Bakura started.

"Already? But I had some suggestions for the contract," Duke said.

Bakura sighed. He turned back to the monitor.

"No, you don't have to reprint the whole thing. I know how money's tight for you," Duke reassured in a not at all reassuring voice. Through the tiny window in the corner, Bakura could see Kaiba pretending to vomit.

"Okay, then, I'll just write them in with pen." Bakura picked up the pen, making sure to show Duke that it was non-erasable. "What did you have in mind?"

Duke turned his trucker cap approximately thirty degrees. "So you want to convert your club into a proper theater, right?"

"Correct."

"Well." Duke took off his cap and began to wring it. "You'll need a very large amount of money, you and Kaiba." He looked around. "Where is Kaiba?"

"He was feeling under the weather." Bakura tried not to glance at the observation window to see Kaiba's reaction.

"You remember your promise earlier this week, don't you? The one involving Joey?"

"Go on…" Bakura said.

"I'm going to need something in return related to that. Something that binds Joey to me and me only. Think of it as a sort of security deposit at the Bank of Duke."

"And what would this deposit be?"

"Oh, maybe the deeds to the Black Dragon Palace."

Both Bakura and Kaiba's jaws dropped at least two inches.

"I'm not naïve, Bakura. I need to know you're going to do your part and in order to do that, I needs the deeds."

"But, Duke-"

"It's called collateral." Duke's voice dropped to an eerie depth. "If you don't understand, I can have Noah get some props and we'll put on a little skit to show you."

The door swung open with a bang. Kaiba marched in and closed the door quietly, revealing the imprint the doorknob made in the wall.

"Where were you?" Duke asked.

"Around," Kaiba answered tersely.

"I thought you were sick."

"I got better." He planted himself in the chair next to Duke's. "And I couldn't help overhearing your suggestion-it is just a suggestion-and wondering if you're out of your goddamn mind."

"Kaiba!" Bakura gasped. Duke only smirked.

"You just march right in here and think you're gonna get it that easily?"

"Well, I hear all Bandit Keith paid was a few hundred dollars," Duke retorted. Bakura braced himself, but Kaiba seemed to have found something very interesting about the floor molding and decided he needed to appreciate it in silence.

"Let's be civil here," Bakura urged, more toward Duke than Kaiba, surprisingly. "Is it really necessary to have the deeds to the Black Dragon Palace?"

"I told you, it's collateral. If I didn't ask for it, it wouldn't be good business practice, would it?"

"But does it have to be that?" Bakura pressed. "Isn't there something else we could use?"

"Well, there really isn't much else I can ask for. The deed is the only concrete thing you have to offer."

Try as he might, Bakura couldn't find a reasonable argument outside of "You're a dirty, dirty little man and we don't like you much." He dithered, searching his brain for a last resort.

"Fine. Have the damn deed."

Bakura was shocked to hear Kaiba's answer.

"You're playing by the rules and we're not in any position to break them, so why the hell not?"

Duke's smug expression deepened. "I'm glad you understand. Noah and I aren't as good performers as the two of you; I'd have hated to bore you with our explanatory skit. I do look forward to opening night with Joey."

Kaiba snarled at Duke and headed for the door. Bakura averted his gaze.

"It's not what it looks like." Duke's hasty speech prompted Bakura and Kaiba to look at him sideways. "I don't own him, I know. It's just I have this tiny jealous streak. I'm not insanely jealous, like enough to do much of anything, no, of course not! I wouldn't even think to do it. Really, I wouldn't. I certainly don't hate the other men around, it's just I WILL NOT HESITATE TO CHOKE A BITCH IF HE TOUCHES MY MAN!"

Bakura looked and felt as if he'd taken a medicine ball to the head. Kaiba gripped the doorknob, stock-still.

Duke's face twitched, then he smiled brightly. "So where do I sign?"

-O-o-O-o-O-


	5. Love is like oxygen laced with SARS

Holidays are fun. Happy holidays.

And here's the next chapter. As usual, explanations of how the characters got in this mess unfold slowly. And it gets serious later in the chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Yu-Gi-Oh_, its Abridged Series, _Moulin Rouge_, or any of the songs parodied. And I certainly don't own Disney.

(1) To the tune of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" from _Lion King_. This number doesn't correspond to any of the songs in _Moulin Rouge_.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Over the next month, hundreds of chairs were dragged onto the dance floor of the HeighHoGoodBi Black Dragon Palace. "With the new money, we can keep these instead of just renting," Bakura explained to the rest of the crew.

They did make a few other changes, one of which was removing that disco ball and painting the doors that had been formerly covered with tin foil. The place was starting to look halfway respectable. The dragons, windmills, and flamingos stayed. They had to keep something for the regulars.

Rehearsals had to start immediately. It was a bit of a challenge to run lines when the noise of hundreds of chairs across the floor and power tools filled the hall. Bakura told everyone it'd teach them to project, since the budget didn't allow for microphones.

They were still doing their usual shows, in addition to this new show. Most of the regulars didn't mind the changes. Others were beginning to wonder about this new line dance called "move all the chairs, then put them back when it's over." Do-si-doing while swinging a folding chair was challenging for everyone.

They'd been rehearsing for a few weeks when Duke decided to drop in for a visit.

Bakura cringed inwardly when he saw Duke walking toward him. "So these are the wonderful changes you were talking about." He looked around. "Those folding chairs really give it a down-homey sort of feel, don't you think?"

"Most of the money went to building sets and props, which will be reused, and costumes…"

"Which won't be reused, I hope." Duke snickered. "That's a good way to spread some nasty diseases.

"We have our own laundry fund," Bakura retorted weakly. Duke didn't seem to be listening. Kaiba turned around and caught Bakura's eye. He gave him a look that said he'd heard the whole exchange and would gladly "accidentally" high-kick Duke in the face.

Duke turned his attention to a man with a neon pink bob and Egyptian-looking headband walking toward him. He jumped-he almost didn't recognize Joey in his wig.

"Hey, Dukey!" He waved over two stagehands moving a fake sarcophagus with an arm hanging out. Duke cringed. He didn't like Joey's little nickname for him, but compromises must be made in the name of love.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you on our date tonight."

Joey's face fell a little. "About dat…Kaiba's really goin' hard on us wit' da rehearsals, and since he learned how to high-kick, I really don't wanna piss him off."

Bakura stepped in. "Then maybe I can arrange something. Maybe Tristan could go along with you to run lines periodically?"

Duke shifted. "That's not exactly romantic."

"Romance is dead." Kaiba charged past.

"Says you, Moneybags," Joey said, but not too loud. He turned back to Bakura. "Dat could work." He turned to Duke, his eyes resembling a young canine.

Duke relented. "Okay. But Tristan pays his own way." He wagged his finger.

"Yay!" Joey cheered, throwing his arms up. Duke paused.

"Because Kaiba won't kick me into da rafters!" Joey continued, his arms still in the air.

"Oh." Duke smiled, relieved.

After the rehearsal, they went to Pizza Shack, the classiest joint in Domino (after the fall, anyway).

The waiter led the three of them to a table at the back. Noah had been given the night off. Duke had given him the option of coming along, but the minute Noah heard "Pizza Shack," he developed the sudden need to polish his brother's old duel disks. Duke never could understand why anyone bothered with things like that anymore. Nobody dueled and probably nobody was going to again. But it wasn't his business what the peasants did with their time.

"Since you were kind enough to tip, we reserved this most special table for you." They noticed that nearly all the windows in the place were broken. The one next to their table, however, was not. Also, theirs was one of the few tables from which no condiment packets had been swiped.

The waiters took their orders after they sat down. The place was like the Duelpark lately; nearly empty and anything that looked remotely valuable (shiny objects, electronic items, bits of the roof) had long since been sold for crack. Colorful flyers brightened the wall, lighting up the men's faces (or was that the work of the old rusted car with miraculously functional headlights? Or the flames from the nearby garbage can?). One of the pieces of paper was a poster for "Awesome Flotsam."

"Huh. Cozy," Joey commented as they huddled into the tiny booth. A few cockroaches ducked back into the slashes in the seat to avoid being squashed. Duke slid over to make room so Joey wouldn't be squashed in the middle. However, Joey must not have noticed because he stayed right where he was, which was rather close to Tristan.

"Good. We won't have to shout across the table," Tristan said. Duke smiled tightly.

The night went on in a relatively normal way. Except for the closeness of Tristan and Joey's bodies increasing. And the fact that the waiter brought a drink with two straws, which Joey and Tristan drained almost instantly.

One might think they were dating or something.

During the date, they ran lines and discussed the play, which was all about dueling. Duke just couldn't get into the conversation-not that Joey and Tristan noticed his inattentiveness. Dueling was inconsequential now; couldn't they see? What was the use of living in the past, especially a past ruled by card games? Didn't they see that dice games were the way to go?

Other than the dueling obsession, Tristan seemed like a nice young man. He was a little preoccupied with Joey, but otherwise, he was decent company. He did wish he could spend more alone time with Joey, though. They agreed to meet the next night for dinner at the Duke's apartment, but they soon had to cancel because, "Kaiba's breakin' my balls—no, not literally. Not yet." They decided to try to set something up for the next night.

Or the next night after that.

Or the one after that.

Duke was beginning to wonder if Joey was trying to avoid him.

He decided to talk to Bakura about it at the theater the next day. He couldn't very well woo Joey over dinner if he never showed up to eat (which surprised Duke greatly, from what he knew about the guy's appetite).

"I couldn't help noticing that Joey seems reluctant to meet with me," Duke told him.

"Well, he really likes this show. It's all about dueling." Bakura seemed to drift off for a few seconds. "Nostalgia's always fun, for a while."

"That's nice, but what about our contract? I don't mean to mix business with pleasure but—"

Kaiba popped up behind them like a daisy—or a weed. "But what, Dear Duke?"

"But shouldn't you fulfill your end of the deal and let me see Joey at least a couple times a week?"

"Duke, have you ever had to plan a whole event in less than a few months?"

"Can't say I have."

"Have you ever tried to plan an event with music and lines to memorize and movement in less than five?"

"Definitely not."

"Have you ever even tried to organize a tournament in less than a few weeks?"

"I suppose not."

"Then haven't you ever heard of closing your gosh-darned mouth?" Kaiba made that face he always did when he won a duel, or even just a particularly intense argument.

Duke looked so defeated, Bakura took pity on him. "Well, maybe we could arrange for you to watch the rehearsals."

Duke was nearly hit by Kaiba's blue eyes—not the dragons, but the ones that almost popped out of his head. "WHAT. NO. We can't have an audience; it'll distract everyone."

"He'll be very quiet, won't you, Duke?" Bakura asked. Duke nodded obediently.

Kaiba sighed very heavily. "Fine. Whatever." He dashed back over to the stage and poked his finger into a faux-tile bathtub. "Yami, wake up."

Yami snorted, then snapped up from the bathtub into which he'd passed out.

After Yami woke up, the rehearsal went off without a hitch, except for the tiny fact that Yugi kept forgetting one of the most important lines in the last scene. At least by the time opening night rolled around, they'd be well rehearsed.

"How do you remember a half page monologue but not remember the most simple line written?" Kaiba was at the point of tearing out his hair-or maybe Yugi's, what with it being easier to get hold of and probably more satisfying to pull.

Yugi shrugged. "Memory is a funny thing."

Kaiba sighed. "All right. I think we've had enough of this for today."

The players dropped character and stretched, exhausted from all the movement. Joey hopped off the stage and sat backwards on a chair in front of Tristan. "Hey."

Tristan beamed up at him from his script. "You were really great up there, man."

"Thanks." Joey may have acted well, but his joy at the compliment was like a neon sign on his face. "Couldn't-a done it without your most excellent writin'."

A dark shadow passed over the pair. A dark, highly perfumed shadow with an equally dark ponytail. "Hey, Joey." His voice exuded interest. "Oh, and Tristan."

"Dukey…" Joey nuzzled up to Duke, much to Tristan's distaste. While Duke had his eyes closed, savoring the contact, Joey gave Tristan a look that said, "My mouth says 'Dukey,' but my heart says 'Tristan.'" Tristan relaxed in time for Duke to open his eyes and thus the façade was maintained.

Duke pulled away, sooner than he usually did. "I'm sure we'll get plenty of that on our date tonight."

"Well," Tristan piped up, "we did sort of need to work on the 'Will the penniless duelist win a duel against the courtesan' scene. But it's not that important, we could always work on it tomorrow."

"No way, Tristan! Dat's one o' da most important scenes in da play. We hafta work on it tonight!"

"Are you sure?" Duke said. "I'm pretty sure I heard Kaiba shooing everyone off for the night."

"We'd be practicing at Yugi's, but I'm sure you want him on your date," Tristan said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"No, it's fine. Work on your scene. I can deal with it," Duke forced a smile. "Really."

"I really wanna see you tonight." Joey played with Duke's ponytail. "But we hafta make sure your money's going to a great show. Maybe next time?"

Duke nodded. Joey waved and skipped off to the dressing rooms to change. Duke looked at Tristan.

Tristan gave a sheepish half smile. "Sorry about that. G'night." He waved and scampered off to the backstage area as if an African elephant were chasing him while he wore pants made of corn.

-O-o-O-

Duke might have been oblivious to Joey's true interests, but the rest of the players were not.

Everyone began packing up to leave for the night. Duke had kissed Joey and gone back to his apartment, but Noah stayed. "You are to tell me everything that happens after I leave," Duke had instructed him in secret. Noah lingered as long as possible, not to observe more, but to put off having to see his boss.

Joey and Tristan canoodled in a cozy corner behind a giant Styrofoam pyramid. Nobody paid much attention; either because they didn't care or (in Noah's case) so they could say they didn't see anything, should Duke ask them.

Bakura was in the office, closing up. Kaiba sat with Mai and Téa on the balcony. The three had been discussing the choreography during the opening scene when Kaiba caught sight of Joey and Tristan. His pupils shrank to a pinpoint, then he ran to the edge of the balcony, looking everywhere for Duke. He relaxed noticeably when he didn't see him anywhere.

"What's gotten into you?" Téa asked.

Kaiba spun to face her, singing:

_"Don't you even notice?"_

"What?" Téa asked.

_"Our deal could be screwed!"_ Kaiba clutched the railing.

"What's happening?"

Mai cut in. _"They're both in love and if you can't see that, there's something wrong with you!"_

"Hey!"

Kaiba continued:

_"They'd better hide their flirting,_

_And stay on the DL._

_'Cause if Duke learns about their romance,_

_This club'll go to hell!"_ Kaiba sank onto a nearby couch.

Téa's eyes widened as she realized what Kaiba was saying. "You don't mean…"

Mai gave a start. "He couldn't…"

Kaiba dragged his head up. "Sadly, he could."

Mai joined Kaiba in singing:

_"Can't they hide their love tonight?_

_We need the secrecy._

_The Duke is blind, but it's too obvious_

_To the eyes of you and me."_

Tristan and Joey had parted. Tristan sat, watching Joey walk back to the dressing rooms. He sang:

_"His voice makes me surrender_

_To his sexy ways._

_And when I look into his chocolate eyes_

_I love him more each day!"_

Joeys stood at his locker, singing:

_"I'm holdin' back my feelings,_

_So maybe it won't show,_

_Dat I can't get enough of Tristan_

_To him, I can't say no!"_

Tristan exited the club and Joey left the dressing rooms. Everyone sang them off, twirling like extras in a Disney movie:

_"Can't you hide your love tonight?_

_Maintain the secrecy._

_The Duke is blind, but it's too obvious_

_To the eyes of you and me."_

The Black Dragon players swirled into a line and, kicking their legs up like Rockettes, continued:

_"Can't you hide your love tonight?_

_It's spreading fast like SARS._

_Hiding in the Duke's oblivion,_

_It's sure to go far."_

Téa sat on the couch on the balcony, looking down at the dancers who were scattering and probably wondering where they got the strength to do that last dance routine of the day. She sang, _"What if Duke saw their love tonight?"_

Kaiba shuddered, singing:

_"Then we can't avoid._

_Like the rules, the Black Dragon is screwed._

_In short, we'll be destroyed."_ (1)

Téa and Mai were silent for once.

"Damn dirty Duke." Kaiba swore.

-O-o-O-

Mokuba was on the couch, flicking through a pulp novel when the door to their apartment opened.

"Where's Noah?" he asked while Kaiba hung up his trench coat. Mokuba locked the door behind him. Who knew what kind of crazies had moved into the apartment down the hall?

"He's reporting back to His Majesty." Kaiba sank into a chair in the kitchen area. "Paranoid prick could ruin everything." He put his head on the table.

Mokuba sat down next to Kaiba. "Did something happen after I left the theater?"

"Absolutely nothing happened. I only caught our lead and the writer grinding out in the open. But lucky for us, His Almighty Highness was clueless as always!" Kaiba punctuated his sarcastic comment with a choking, bitter laugh. He craned his neck to look up at Mokuba. "What do you want for dinner?"

Mokuba wasn't quite ready to deal with the new subject. "Wait, if Joey and Tristan keep at it, Duke's going to completely pull out?"

"Duke pulls out if Tristan doesn't." Kaiba gave another choking laugh. "Don't worry, though. Joey agreed to it, too. Even suggested the opening night date of transaction, if you know what I mean."

Mokuba stared levelly at his brother. "So you're running a brothel?"

"It's not a brothel," Kaiba corrected. "It's more of a theater with benefits."

"Does everyone sell themselves, or-"

"Don't be like that, Mokuba." Kaiba's sharp tone made Mokuba shrink into his seat. He ran his hands through his hair as if to collect his thoughts and continued in a gentler voice. "Whenever there's a big show and we need money for props or scenery or effects or whatever, we all hire ourselves out to do odd jobs or other things. Some find odd jobs, which are few and far between in this hole. The rest…do other things."

"Is there a third option?"

"Go to work for the enemy." Kaiba sniffed.

The door opened again and in walked Noah.

"Speaking of the enemy…" Kaiba trailed off, going to forage in the fridge.

"Shut it. I don't want to hear it tonight." Noah tossed his jacket on the couch.

"You never want to hear it, because you know you're wrong. How can you work for him after what he did to our company, to every duelist? He practically orchestrated the Fall with that dice shit." Kaiba slammed the fridge and yanked open the freezer. "But you never did have the balls to do much of anything, did you."

"Like what, go to the slums and do god knows what to get money?"

Kaiba turned from the freezer. "Do you want fish sticks or casserole, Mokuba?"

"Oh, very nice. Change the subject. What the hell, Seto, you never did that before. Don't start now."

"I didn't change the subject; I ended the conversation."

"Yeah, well, while we're on this one, you should have more sense about what you put in your mouth."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I just meant that frozen crap. It's pure fat and sodium and it's showing up on your ass."

"Huh." Kaiba snarled. "Maybe you could take your own advice—and remove Duke's dick."

Mokuba had to leave the room, but couldn't avoid the sound of Noah's hand on Kaiba's face. Or the sounds of the resulting fight.

"That's your answer to everything. Just beat the crap out of everyone and whoever wins is right," Noah growled.

"I don't care who's right at this point. Don't say shit like that in front of Mokuba. He doesn't need to know what I do after work."

How naïve do you think I am, Mokuba thought as he lay in bed, later. Do you think I don't know where you go at night? Because I do, Seto.

I don't even see the neighborhood but from a distance, and I don't need to. I already know it's worse than anywhere we've ever lived—before we were Kaibas and after the Fall—and for that reason alone, I should tie you up for the night and never let you leave until it's time for work. Or, I shouldn't have to, because you should decide to stay out of that dump.

There are junkies and hookers sprawled all over the streets. Sometimes cars swerve to avoid them. Other times…I really hope there aren't any other times. There are no homes, just houses. Crack houses. And hovels from hollowed out storefronts. And you want to help somebody, anybody, but you're so bad off yourself, you're not in any position to do anything.

But you, Big Brother, just walk right past them all, like it's nothing.

You act like you can't smell the fires in the trashcans, the smoke from the pipes, or the sick people. You act like you don't see the men passed out with a paper bag or the women on the corners, or vice versa. You act like you don't hear the yells of stabbing victims, the cries of crack babies, the breaking of bottles (sometimes from spilled trashcans, sometimes over someone's head).

I never took you for the actor type.

You enter one of the storefronts. There's probably some down-and-out duelist hanging around. Or one of your past business partners. Some guy whose money dried up after the Fall; he could live for a while, but it all ran out.

Well, not all of it.

He's broke, out of work, and, most importantly, lonely. And very horny. He hasn't had any action in months, maybe years, depending on who he was after the Fall. He can't get any on his own, and he desperately needs to get his rocks off.

This is where you come in. Even dressed in tattered clothes and only lit by the fire pits and flickering streetlights, you're somehow irresistible to these men. Maybe it's your confidence. Maybe they recognize you from a duel from your past lives. Maybe they think they'll regain their youth and sanity through your interaction that night.

You both lie down on his soiled mattress. I can't even begin to imagine the things you're saying, let alone what's going on in your head. Actually, that's wrong. I can imagine what you're thinking; you're doing it for me, for Noah, for the crew at the Black Dragon, for dueling. Good reasons, but remember the saying about good intentions—or maybe you don't; you never were religious.

You just lie back and think of card games.

He either kisses you or he doesn't. If he does, it's an empty gesture devoid of any emotion other than lust, despair, or some twisted sense of accomplishment (you don't let on that you faked it all—you really do amaze me with your acting). If he doesn't, well, you're okay with that. You didn't kiss your associates after settling a deal, did you?

He shoves money into your hand. Or your pants. You take it.

You leave the man, the hovel, and the whole neighborhood. You'll be coming back, but next time, it'll be a different man, except when sometimes it isn't.

You'll sneak in, making sure nobody, not even the downstairs neighbors with supersonic hearing, knows you're back until they see you. And you make damn sure they don't see you, because your clothes are not in the same smooth state they were in when you left.

I nearly jump out of bed in alarm because the man coming through the door doesn't smell like my brother. You don't after doing _that_. Your smell is completely smothered by that of another man, usually a highly unwashed one. Your eyes don't look the same either. They're empty, lifeless, even though you're moving around the apartment like you just drank a gallon of coffee. If Noah's there to see you—not likely—he stays far away. Neither of you have the energy to fight after what you've both been up to.

Mokuba was drifting off to sleep when the front door shut softly. "And I don't have it in me to pretend anymore." He entered the realm of Dreamland, shutting the gates on the previous unpleasant thoughts.

Kaiba crept to his little brother's room to check on him. Mokuba wasn't a child anymore (certainly not after that night's revelation), but old habits died hard. He pushed the door open silently and peered in. He went to tuck Mokuba in, but stopped himself.

"Not before I take a shower," he thought, turning toward the bathroom.

-O-o-O-o-O-


	6. Defibrillating the Heart of the Cards

Here's chapter six. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Yu-Gi-Oh_, its Abridged Series, _Moulin Rouge_, or any of the songs parodied in this story.

(1) To the tune of "Sexyback" by Justin Timberlake. (Also known as: Duke's theme song, except it will be turned against him, sort of)

(2) To the tune of "Hung Up" by Madonna.

(3) To the tune of "Dance in the Dark" by Lady Gaga.

Note: The song-snippet parodies in this chapter also don't correspond to any of the songs in the movie.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Between rehearsals one day and on the lawn (if you could call it that) of the old Duelpark, Tristan, Joey, Yugi, and Yami had a snack attack. They kicked aside the overturned, burnt trashcans, the scrap metal from some discarded duel disks, and cardboard boxes (the ones that weren't inhabited by ex-duelists, anyway) and spread their mat on the sunniest spot in the park. It also happened to be the spot with the most feral cats.

When they finished moving their things and drenching themselves in hydrogen peroxide, they sat down to eat. Yugi and Yami went to wash their hands, while Joey and Tristan, caring nothing about germs, dug in.

"At least they didn't get our food," Tristan said, tearing into his taco.

"Too bad cats don't duel." Joey pulled a burrito out of the bag. "'Cause den we coulda played 'em for dere cheeseburgers."

"Wouldn't count on it," Tristan replied. "Look over there."

They looked over at the herd of cats playing in the shade. The click, click, click of the grimy dice they batted around was barely audible over the sounds of the gang's conversation and the box-dwellers' swearing. Joey and Tristan watched as the cats swatted the dice, then hopped over each other, craning their tiny necks into the center of the pack. Two of the cats, a calico and tabby, began to hiss at each other. Soon they were circling and slashing at each other, while the rest of the cats skittered around.

"Grrr…Even da cats are playin' dice games!" Joey yelled.

"Shut up over there, I'm trying to sleep!" Rex Raptor slurred from his cardboard box.

"You shut it, ya burnt out bum!" Joey yelled back.

"Hey, calm down, man." Tristan put a hand on Joey's shoulder.

Joey threw himself back onto the blanket. "Call demselves real duelists…Dey wouldn't know a real duelist if it bit em on da ass-OW!" Joey rubbed his butt as the cat that bit him wandered away.

"You can't really blame them," Tristan said. "They're just swept up in the dice-mania like everyone else."

"Yeah. Just like everyone else…" Joey drew in the dirt.

Tristan looked at the small town of cardboard, decorated jauntily with colorful egg cartons and bottle glass. "Dueling was like a way of life here in Domino, wasn't it?" he asked.

Joey looked up, his anger temporarily forgotten. "Are you kiddin'? It was all anyone ever played! And, man, was it awesome!"

Tristan tossed a stray grocery bag around. "Was it really?"

Joey turned from his dirt masterpiece to stare at Tristan. "Don't tell me you've neva dueled."

Tristan shrugged. "I've never had the chance to."

Joey's mouth dropped open, giving Tristan a nice view of his thoroughly chewed burrito. Sexy.

Joey closed his mouth, swallowed, then clamped his hands down on Tristan's shoulders. "You have no idea what you're missin'."

Yugi began to bang rhythmically on an empty trashcan. Yami peppered the beat with melodies created by juggling broken bottle glass. Joey jumped up and began to gyrate to the music. After a few measures, he began to sing. Absolutely nobody batted an eye.

_"I'm bringin' duelin' back._

_Dem dice playas must be smokin' crack._

_Draw anotha card from da freakin' stack._

_Whip out your deck and plan your first attack."_ (1)

Joey whipped out two decks. He juggled them and shuffled them both together. Tristan tilted his head in wonder as he watched. Cards flew left and right as Joey continued to shuffle. Soon, all the cards were flying in the air in a gravity-defying cloud, before they swirled around Tristan, who twirled like a Disney hero. Joey leapt from one patch of dirt to another, legs suddenly clad in legwarmers, shirt hanging off one shoulder. He bent backwards over a bench and was promptly drenched in muddy water as someone bicycled past.

This seemed to snap everyone out of the acid dance sequence that would surely have continued long into the night. The cards settled back into the form of two decks and Joey and Tristan began to duel.

They drew a card. They placed it on the mat. They squinted into their hands.

They drew a card. They placed it on the mat. They squinted into their hands some more.

They drew a card. They placed it on the mat. They wondered why they couldn't just draw six cards and put them all on the mat at once.

Yugi and Yami watched this riveting action from the shade of a car on cinderblocks.

"I'd be on the edge of my seat, if I could afford to actually buy chairs instead of renting," Yugi said.

"It's so exciting, I have to tap this bottle to keep from falling asleep!" Yami added.

The car window rolled down as the occupant turned the crank. "Get off my lawn!"

Yugi and Yami scurried away and sat next to the mat. Yami continued to tap the bottle on the neck and body with a "tick tock tick tock."

Tristan drew another card and began to sing to keep from falling over.

_"Turns go by so slowly with every draw._

_I think my strategy's flawed._

_How is this fun? When will it be done?_

_Oh, wait, wait! I think I'm winning the duel!"_

Joey perked up. "See? It's fun when you win!"

Tristan nodded. "I get it now!"

Joey jumped up and continued the verse.

_"Ain't it grand, dis duelin'?_

_When it's not bland or gruelin'."_

_"It's quite fun, this dueling._

_I think I like to duel!"_ Tristan sang, his face brightening.

He jumped up next to Joey and the two began a dance routine involving kicks, shoulder-shimmies, and other terrible, outdated moves that can't even be mentioned. Yugi continued to bang on differently sized trashcans, forming the beat and part of the tune. Yami wasn't so much trying to make music with the bottle glass as he was throwing it at Rex, who had the gall to attempt stealing his deck. The other inhabitants of the cardboard community started dancing to the beat, even the ones who were lying down in refrigerator boxes.

_"Every single card that I draw is fuel_

_For machines powered by multiple duels._

_Holographic cards are like cardstock jewels,_

_And who cares if nobody knows the rules?"_ Tristan bounced while singing.

_"Every single game that I play with you_

_Gets me hot…"_ Joey moved closer to Tristan.

_"I think that I am feeling it, too,"_ Tristan agreed.

_"When da game is done, let's pack up our cards_

_And we'll have a whole otha kind of duel."_ (2)

Yugi changed the beat. Joey and Tristan stopped dancing and stood still while making odd arm movements. Yami stopped throwing glass at Rex. "They're making the same strange motions! They must be soul mates!" he shouted. Then he began to play xylophone on the park bench.

To the clanging of the trashcans, Joey began to chant:

_"Solitaire…Go Fish…P-P-P-Poker…_

_Forget all dose games!_

_Shuffle like you're a maniac,_

_Den point like you're disco dancin'._

_Put your deck inside da slot,_

_Strike a pose,_

_Yell a lot."_

Tristan answered his chant with this:

_"You can't go wrong with the cards._

_Dice rolling, we'll disregard._

_You can't go wrong with the cards._

_Especially the ones with heart."_

They quit doing the arm movements and sang together:

_"We'll have them all playing with cards._

_Without dueling life's just too hard._

_Get a paper cut and you'll surely be scarred."_

They pumped their fists in the air and kicked up their legs. Yugi and Yami joined in and they all sang:

_"Bringing back the heart of the cards_

_Because we are too avant-garde!_

_We won't spend our time bringing back billiards."_ (3)

The four skipped into the sunset, arms linked, free arms pointing up in the air.

Rex sat and sulked in his cardboard box, which was now next to the rusty car. "They probably didn't have any good cards, anyway."

"GET OFF MY LAWN!" the voice roared from the car. Rex obeyed.

-O-o-O-o-O-

I've decided there must be a song in each chapter. I suppose I won't write a chapter until I can think of a decent parody for a song, then (but that usually doesn't take too terribly long to happen).


	7. Coyote Bakura and Doctor Dukey

This chapter is camp. Serenity is not the way she was in canon (she grew a backbone) because she's been modeling Mai and Téa. And unlike the Duke in the original movie, Duke Devlin isn't going to be a complete monster (otherwise this story would be a lot darker).

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Yu-Gi-Oh_, its Abridged Series, _Moulin Rouge_, or any of the songs parodied in this story. I don't own McDonalds either.

(1) To the tune of "Live to Tell" by Madonna.

(2) To the tune of "Lucky" by Britney Spears. The parody of this doesn't correspond to any of the songs in the movie.

(3) To the tune of "Doctor Jones" by Aqua.

-O-o-O-o-O-

It was after the end of a very long rehearsal that Joey and Tristan were making out behind a Styrofoam sphinx while everyone ignored them.

"Don't you think," Tristan asked between connections, "we should…" Joey came at him again. "Be a little more discreet?"

"Discretion's for wimps," Joey quipped, going back for seconds. "You need to try gamblin' fer once."

Up on the balcony, Bakura and Duke were having a heated discussion.

"Haven't you been watching? Joey doesn't even notice I'm here. It's always 'Tristan dis' or 'Tristan dat.'"

"Duke! I didn't know you did impressions!" Bakura wasn't lying. He really did think Duke had Joey down pat.

"Bakura, I'm serious. He's practically obsessed with Tristan. When that writer tags along, it's like I have to break into their conversation. I need a freaking verbal sledgehammer, and that's just not cool!"

"Might I suggest finding a common interest? Like dueling?" Bakura glanced down at the stage. Yami was draped over the sphinx's front paws while Yugi poked at him.

Duke did his best to hide his frustration. "We can't talk about the play all the time. Besides, dueling is deader than Kaibaland."

Bakura didn't comment. He didn't need to, not with the look Kaiba was giving to the back of Duke's head.

"I'm going to use my well-honed acting skills to pretend you didn't just say that."

Duke was also hoping Kaiba would pretend he wasn't considering kicking him off the balcony as well. He hid his fear and asked, "How are you everywhere?"

Kaiba smirked. "It's a gift." He was about to explain very carefully and patronizingly why Duke should really think about what he said before he said it, but something caught his eye down below. In the corner, behind a set piece, Joey and Tristan were doing something very untoward-and something very visible from the balcony.

Bakura followed Kaiba's gaze to the floor. He saw Duke turn to him in his periphery and made eye contact to distract him immediately.

"What are we all looking at?" Duke turned around from staring at Kaiba to look down.

"It's nothing." Kaiba said loudly as Bakura blocked the scene with his head. "Yami's asleep again. I'm going to wake him up."

Duke seemed to accept the explanation. Bakura led him away, saying, "Now about those interests…"

Kaiba flew down the stairs. This was toeing the line between ridiculous and suicidal. Did they not realize all their futures were at stake?

Joey and Tristan continued trysting. Everyone continued to ignore them. Tristan was perfectly content to keep at it, but he noticed a tall brunette figure behind Joey's head.

"What do you think you're doing?"

If you didn't listen to the actual words, you would swear they were simply having artistic differences.

"Um, well," Tristan started. "We were just practicing some of the more complicated blocking." Joey nodded enthusiastically.

Kaiba's face settled into an almost pleasant expression. A wail of "No! Don't you die on me now, Sparky!" came from across the street.

"Oh." Kaiba shifted his weight. "Well, that's great. Except, I don't remember the scene where the penniless duelist shoves his hand up the courtesan's kilt."

Both Joey and Tristan examined the base of the sphinx.

"Get outta here." Kaiba pulled Tristan away. Tristan hesitated, then scurried away at Joey's insistence and after seeing the look on Kaiba's face. "I'd rather see his high kick from a distance," he muttered as he escaped.

Kaiba turned back to Joey. "Are you mental, or are you actively trying to ruin everything? Because I need to know; medication's expensive and I'd hate to take it out of our laundry fund."

"We weren't doin' anythin' wrong." Joey's voice came out much less assertive than he wanted it to.

"What do you call fooling around with the writer when you have a deal with Duke, then? Don't you realize how much power he has over this production? If he pulls out, we could all be back to putting out for props!"

Joey shrugged and backed into the wall. He certainly didn't want that for himself or the rest of the crew (not even for Kaiba).

"Or, do you think that's the best strategy? Selling ourselves for lousy surrealism? Do you want to spend your life in grease and glitter?" The half-crazed gleam in Kaiba's eyes prompted Joey to look around for any stray staff-like props, just in case.

"Cool it, Kaiba. Nobody saw anythin'," Joey said in the calmest voice he could muster.

"But he very nearly did!" Kaiba's voice was uncharacteristically shrill. Joey put a finger in his ear and twisted it, not daring to take his eyes off the possibly insane man in front of him.

Kaiba seemed to realize he was on the verge of losing it. He took a deep silent breath, though his face was still as red as the windmills on the roof. "You're not seeing Tristan anymore."

Joey stared. "What am I, your twelve year old son?"

Kaiba didn't appear to have heard. "You can't put this whole operation in danger with your…dalliances." He cringed at the word. "You're going to tell him it's over and you're going to keep it that way."

"But—"

"No buts, Wheeler. I wouldn't have allowed this to go on so long if Bakura weren't so persuasive, but now that Duke's here all the time, we can't have that anymore. Do you understand, or do I need to go over it again?"

"I got it," Joey spat. "I ain't stupid."

"Good. Duke's expecting you at the FracDonalds tower tonight. Don't blow it...unless he asks you to, of course." Kaiba walked off.

Joey watched him climb the stairs to the offices. How easily he could order others around, but then again, this was Kaiba. Why should he care that this whole deal was tearing Joey apart?

Joey trailed his nails along the ridges in the 1970s wood paneling as he made his way back to the dressing rooms.

_"A man can always learn to hide_

_Until he's just a shell._

_If I go ta hell and back, I wouldn't care_

_Just say I can keep your memory dere."_ (1)

"Joey, is everything all right?" Bakura's voice held genuine concern. "I saw Kaiba, and—"

"It's nothin'. He just wanted ta talk, dat's all." Joey turned away from Bakura. No way was he going to cry now; Bakura might think Kaiba made him cry. Joey may have been running around wearing duel cards, body paint, and not much else, but he still had his pride.

Bakura didn't leave just then. "It's-it's for the best," he weakly reassured.

"Sure. Takin' one for da team. We all gotta do it sometime, I guess." Joey was sure Bakura could hear the strain in his voice. It was harder to breathe all of a sudden.

Bakura ran to Joey's aid as Joey started hacking and coughing into a tissue. They managed to get to the bench under the stairs before Joey passed out, his hands lined with blood.

Bakura tapped Joey's cheek to revive him. It was a no-go. "How long have you had these symptoms?" he whispered as he went to the water fountain, got a handful of water, and splashed it on Joey's face. When that failed, he practically flew upstairs to the phone to call one of the few remaining doctors in Domino.

When he got off the phone, he ran out of the office and right into Serenity. "Oh, thank god you haven't left yet. Joey is coughing up blood, and he's fainted under the stairs."

Serenity ran down the stairs, heart in mouth. She found Joey on the bench, a tissue next to his mouth. The tissue was soaked in red.

Kaiba rounded the corner. "The doctor will be here shortly." He looked down at Joey's curled form. "There's no way he's seeing the Duke tonight."

Serenity didn't bat an eye at his bluntness. Bakura put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Do you know if anything like this has happened before?" he asked gently.

Serenity couldn't look at Bakura. "Once, maybe twice before."

"Why didn't you do anything about it?" Kaiba asked.

"Because if even you, O Great and Mighty Kaiba, are having issues getting healthcare, how do you think the rest of us poor slobs are doing?" Serenity snapped. "Besides, he refused to go. He thought he'd get over it."

"He thought he'd recover from hacking up a lung?"

Serenity wrenched around to face him. "Don't you have customers on Chess Avenue?"

Both Bakura and Kaiba were taken aback by Serenity's tone. Kaiba actually averted his gaze.

"I'm sorry," Serenity said, her voice still tight.

"Like you could ever faze me," Kaiba muttered, turning to Bakura. "When are you going to tell Duke?"

"Let's call him now." Bakura headed to the phone, Kaiba at his heels.

They got Noah instead. "Duke is unavailable at the moment, can I take a message?"

"Joey can't come to the tower tonight. He's—"

"Wait, what do you mean he can't come?"

Kaiba snatched the phone from Bakura. "He's literally coughing up a lung. He's not going anywhere tonight."

They could hear muffled talking on the other line. "Seriously? You think Duke's going to believe you're not covering up for Joey and his paramour?"

"It's the truth. If he doesn't want to believe it, that's his problem."

There was more muffled talking on the other end. They heard Noah sigh heavily before answering. "Duke says you lie like the bored hooker you are. He wants Joey at the FracDonalds tower by nine or the deal's off," Noah said.

Bakura took the phone back before Kaiba could crush the receiver. "We'll see what we can do." He hung up.

"Hmm. We could break his kneecaps," Kaiba suggested.

Bakura turned his weary eyes on him. "No, we couldn't." He twirled the phone cord. "Besides, we can't afford a club."

"We could use the phone."

"No physical violence!" Bakura insisted. He stroked his giant gold hoop earring. "Not yet, anyway. Domino may be somewhat lawless, but we can't go breaking our enemies' legs willy-nilly. Besides, he'll definitely call off the deal if we pull something like that. No," he continued, poking a strand of white hair through the hoop, "I'll go to the tower and sort things out."

Kaiba scoffed. "Nothing short of you impersonating Joey will please that guy."

Bakura headed downstairs to the changing rooms. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

-O-o-O-

In a house that resembled a scaled-down Hill House, Duke emerged from the shower. "Oh, yeah. Steam follows Duke Devlin everywhere he goes."

He wrapped a towel about his waist and went to the large window in his bedroom. The view was lovely, except for the clusters of bedraggled people huddled around fires in trashcans, cardboard and corrugated tin condominiums, and hollowed out storefronts.

The sky was a beautiful shade of dark blue, anyway.

Duke turned away from the window. The towel was in danger of falling down. That mattered little, since the view would only be improved if it did.

He lay down on his bed and basked in the relative silence. He'd thought the best neighborhood in Domino would have less noise pollution, but there were few suitable living spaces, and beggars couldn't be choosers. The actual beggars had to make do with sleeping on the front lawn and leaving before he let the dogs out.

Maybe he shouldn't have sent the dogs after them, though. They had nowhere else to go; they were likely wandering around because they were kicked out of the cardboard village in the park for whatever reason—tearing up cards, maybe? All they really wanted was a soft spot of grass to sleep on, preferably one where they didn't have to worry about being stabbed with trading cards and broken duel disks. Besides, the dogs were having unusual bouts of fatigue lately; Noah kept looking at them with upturned mouth corners clearly visible on his face.

"All those vagrants. Maybe I should do something about them," Duke mused. He turned over and that train of thought was instantly derailed. "Ooh, shiny mirror."

He looked at his reflection. He had the most gorgeous green eyes, yet he could never bring himself to look into them for long. It wasn't fair. How could he properly enjoy his own sexiness if he couldn't even look at himself in the mirror without feeling vaguely guilty?

"Why can't I enjoy myself? Why is it so hard to screw my conscience, I have money?" He sat up, pounding the bed. "Why am I not getting laid?"

He pounded the bed six times, magically producing the music to a pop ballad. Duke rose and took one last look at the view outside his window before yanking his towel off with a flourish.

_"This is a song about a guy named Dukey-I mean, Duke."_

Duke skated on his towel across the lacquered wood floor and began to sing:

_"Nearly evening; I dress up_

_And pose in the mirror on the door._

_I grab Noah. 'Time to roll.'_

_Just like the dice on my drawers."_

Duke put on his dice-patterned underwear and posed in the mirror, continuing to sing.

_"Isn't he sexy, this dice master guy?"_

_"For Frig's sake."_ Noah combed his mint green mullet.

Duke danced while singing into a hair gel tube.

_"Look, it's Dukey. He's so unmarred."_

_"Must he un-undress with the door ajar?"_ Noah tapped his foot and averted his gaze from the doorway.

_"But just one thing bugs me like a mite,_

_Should I wear this sheer top tonight?"_ Duke held up a sheer black top with green sparkles.

The music continued while Duke hemmed and hawed over his ensemble for the night. Not once did he or Noah question its source.

"We're going to be late," Noah called from the hall.

"I rule Domino city. They can wait on me," Duke retorted. "But I can't wait to get to Joey, so I'll speed it up."

Duke decided on a more dignified outfit of a red tank top over a black mesh t-shirt paired with black leather pants and cowboy boots. Noah was even more dashing in a white sailor suit. They drove off in the purple Cadillac with Duke absently batting at the pyramid-studded dice hanging from the rearview mirror. He alternated looking out the window and at the passenger's side mirror, all while singing.

_"There's a scrimmage of fan girls_

_But when I walk by, they all stop._

_Everyone's brown-nosing and I keep on posing._

_But maybe I'm just a silly fop."_

He noticed his own eyes staring back at him in the mirror. He immediately shifted his gaze to Chess Avenue, then away again to the golden F-shaped lights on the tower in the distance.

_"Aren't I lucky, I'm king of the world?"_ Duke twirled a loose strand of hair.

_"Oy vey."_ Noah put the turn signal on and tried not to look down Chess Avenue at the tall brunette figure walking down the street. Duke paid more attention to the white-haired man in the black jacket running down the street and continued to sing.

_"Look, it's Dukey! He's so bizarre._

_As he rides, rides, rides in his crazy car._

_World's on six and seven and he's dressed to the nines._

_Hey, what's with these third person lines?"_

They pulled up at the FracDonalds tower, the only building in Domino that had not lost its pre-Fall glory. It boasted seven stories, the tallest building since all the skyscrapers were demolished soon after the fall, not a single broken window, proper insulation, thirty large meeting rooms with comfortable furniture, and a roof without leaks.

"Wow," Noah said. "The only place in town that hasn't been raided."

They walked under a golden arch into the mirrored main hall. They were the only ones in the hall, other than the yellow-uniformed concierge. Their footsteps echoed on the wood floor as they received their complimentary laser light crowns and followed the concierge down the red and white striped halls to the stairs.

_"Isn't it ducky? Dice games rule the world,"_ Duke sang in response as they walked up a spiral staircase illuminated by neon lights to a large meeting room on the third floor. Duke threw open the checkered doors to reveal an open green-paneled parlor with large purple couches and arm chairs. He strutted across the checkered floor, past an oversized red 1950s dinette table to a large mirror, singing.

_"I am so sexy, but why, why, oh why_

_Am I still single? It's a little odd_

_That I've purchased some guy."_ Duke broke away from kissing the mirror and sat down at the neon-lit bar near Noah, who poured them both a glass of rye. Duke downed his drink in two gulps and spun around on the barstool.

_"And I say,_

_I'm freaking Dukey! I'm a rock star!_

_Drinking rye, rye, rye at a neon bar,_

_Thinking if the fan girls think I'm a turn-on,_

_Then where have my cheerleaders gone?"_

Duke twirled out of his seat and began dancing in a manner not dissimilar to that of a boy band member. Noah pranced behind him, saying, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Neither of them noticed when the door opened and Bakura tiptoed in. Duke sang another chorus.

_"They all say,_

_Look at Dukey. He's so hot._

_I took Kai-Kaiba for all he has got."_ Noah shot Duke a dirty look at this line.

_"I guess dice games aren't everything in life."_ Duke turned to the door and snapped his head up just in time.

_"Oh, why does he leer with those eyes?"_ Bakura wondered aloud at Duke's piercing gaze. (2)

The three of them froze for a few seconds before Duke and Noah dropped their dance poses. "I'm going to give you two some privacy," Noah said, then left the room, his ears burning from being caught dancing.

Duke sat down at the dinette table and drummed his fingers on the surface. "Well? Where is he?"

"Oh, bugger," Bakura thought. "Is it so hard to believe someone is sick?" Aloud, he said, "Didn't Noah tell you? Joey couldn't come. He's very ill."

Duke rolled his eyes. "Do you think I'm going to fall for that excuse? He wasn't keeling over at rehearsal today."

"He got sick after you left. It came on suddenly. It happens," Bakura said.

"So, you're saying I made him sick? Wow, that's flattering."

No, I don't mean that at all. It's just…" Bakura shifted, trying to think of something Duke would believe, if not the truth. "He's getting tested!"

Duke raised an eyebrow, but softened his expression. "Really?"

Bakura nodded vigorously. "He's making sure he's all healthy, just for you!"

"Oh." Duke sounded convinced. "But what if he's…you know."

Bakura put up his hands reassuringly. "Whenever we do someone a favor, we always take the proper precautions. I'm absolutely sure he's fine. But," Bakura leaned in close, "he's got one thing only you can cure."

A C chord sounded from high in the rafters. Crickets chirped a four beats per measure rhythm. Bakura threw open the window and began to sing.

_"Sometimes the air is just right._

_Viruses spread like wildfire._

_SARS, flu, and dreaming of you;_

_You've got him sick with desire!"_ Bakura put a hand on his forehead and feigned swooning. He snapped up and did a short hoedown.

_"Hey nonny-nonny yay, yippie yi yeah._

_Yippie ki yay, mutha!"_

Duke watched in amazement as Bakura twirled over to the light switches and turned a dial. The regular white lighting was replaced with a soft pink glow, giving Bakura's hair the appearance of cotton candy. Bakura slinked to Duke's chair while Duke tried to take his mind off how hungry he was looking at Bakura's hair. Bakura continued to sing.

_"Now that the lights are all low,_

_Why don't we give it a go?_

_Let's have a practice run now._

_I'll be your surrogate Joe!"_

Bakura draped a huge yellow napkin over his head and launched into an imitation of Joey.

_"Dukey, I am turnin' blue."_ Bakura knelt down and rubbed himself against Duke's legs.

_"Well, that sounds serious."_ Duke flicked his dice earring.

_"Need anotha shot o' you."_ Bakura whipped off his black jacket, revealing a white mesh top.

_"Forget X-rays."_ Duke sat up straight. Convincing actor, was Bakura.

_"You're my favorite medicine."_ Bakura began to flop around on the floor in front of Duke.

_"I've got a double dose."_ Duke swooped off his chair and knelt over Bakura, pantomiming a syringe.

_"Your love's like pow, pow, pow. Please inject me now!"_ Bakura threw himself up and skipped around, singing in his normal voice.

_"Doctor Duke, Duke._

_Hello, Doctor Duke!_

_Doctor Duke, Doctor Duke, insure me!_

_Doctor Duke, Duke,_

_You won't be rebuked!_

_Doctor Duke, Doctor Duke, come cure me!"_

Bakura hopped onto the back of a couch and straddled it. He swirled his fist in the air as if swinging a lasso.

_"Hey nonny-nonny yay, yippie yi yeah._

_Yippie ki yay, mutha!"_

He bounced up and down as if he were riding a mechanical bull, being very careful to land on his behind and not the more sensitive area. Duke watched him, headbanging to the rhythm.

_"Hey nonny-nonny yay, yippie yi yeah._

_Yippie ki yay, mutha!"_

Bakura swung his leg back over the couch and continued his Joey impression, sidling up to Duke.

_"I'm seein' spots in my sight,_

_All of 'em green and black._

_When I look into your eyes_

_Voila! Dey're all gone—just like dat!"_

Bakura ran over to the dinette table and lay down on it. Duke ran over and stood over him.

_"Dukey, I am hooked on you."_ He offered up his wrists.

_"I better check your pulse."_ Duke put two fingers on Bakura's wrists.

_"I think I've got a feva, too."_ Bakura did the monkey while lying down.

_"Feel your heart points."_ Duke laid a hand on Bakura's chest.

_"Lemme have just one more fix."_ Bakura thrust his hips upwards.

_"Your organ's working fine."_ Duke leaned back to avoid being hit by Bakura's body.

_"I can feel my heart pound. My head, it spins around!"_ Bakura shook his head rapidly, creating the illusion of a three hundred sixty degree rotation. Miraculously, the yellow napkin stayed in place.

_"Doctor Duke, Duke._

_Hello, Doctor Duke!_

_Doctor Duke, Doctor Duke, check me up!_

_Doctor Duke, Duke,_

_So excited I could puke!_

_Doctor Duke, Doctor Duke, deck me up!"_ Bakura draped a white tablecloth about himself as a makeshift hospital gown.

Bakura hopped up on the deserted bar and gyrated against the pole fixed in the center, making sure to swing his hips toward Duke's waiting head.

_"Hey nonny-nonny yay, yippie yi yeah._

_Yippie ki yay, mutha!"_

Bakura did another hoedown. Duke's eyes traveled slowly from Bakura's feet to his hips.

_"Hey nonny-nonny yay, yippie yi yeah._

_Yippie ki yay, mutha!"_

Bakura leaped off the bar, landing on his feet. He dropped to the ground and dragged himself toward Duke, pitching his shoulders and hips forward and back.

_"Please, please heal me!_

_Come and feel me!_

_Don't be nonplussed._

_Cool my Brooklyn lust!"_

Duke rose and stepped towards Bakura slowly, a smile forming on his face. Bakura sang at Duke, with Duke responding:

_"Doctor Duke, Duke."_

_"Accept me!"_ Duke slid down on his knees in front of Bakura.

_"Doctor Duke, Duke."_

_"Erect me!"_ Duke shook his hips up and down.

_"Doctor Duke, Duke."_

_"Affect me!"_ Duke twisted his torso around, his ponytail whirling around like a well-oiled propeller.

_"Doctor Duke, Duke, inject me!"_ Bakura took the napkin off his head and whipped his own behind with it. Duke went wild. He leapt up, his heels clicking together and gave chase, joining in the singing.

_"Hey nonny-nonny yay, yippie yi yeah._

_Yippie ki yay, mutha!_

_Hey nonny-nonny yay, yippie yi yeah._

_Yippie ki yay, mutha!"_

Duke pounced Bakura, who grabbed him and leaned back, sending them both onto the large couch. They sang the final chorus together, convulsing on the seat and armrests.

_"Doctor Duke, Duke._

_Hello, Doctor Duke!_

_Doctor Duke, Doctor Duke, revive me!_

_Doctor Duke, Duke,_

_I swear I'm not a kook!_

_Doctor Duke, Doctor Duke, test drive me!"_ (3)

The fire alarm shrieked above them, accompanied by flashing red lights. The door swung open and Noah ran in.

"We have to evacuate, there's a fire." He looked down at the two men doing contortionist poses on the couch. "Oh, awkward."

Duke and Bakura scrambled up and followed Noah down the stairs. "Setting off all the smoke alarms: just a normal night for Duke Devlin." Duke tossed his ponytail.

-O-o-O-o-O-

In the next chapter comes the Robot Unicorn Dance Number and Secret Song of Secretive Secrets.


	8. Harmony, harmony card love!

Here's chapter eight. It's campier than the last one and the Kaibas' situation is explained further. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Yu-Gi-Oh_, its Abridged Series, _Moulin Rouge_, or any of the songs parodied in this story.

(1) A Katy Perry "Firework" reference. This scene is also a reference to the game "Robot Unicorn Attack."

(2) The whole song is to the tune of Erasure's "Always."

(3) A reference to something Dark Yugi says in the first volume of the manga: "Back then, we used 'astragali'-the uneven heel bones of calves and sheep." The line "rolling bones be damned" is also a reference to this.

-O-o-O-o-O-

The real diagnosis was much more bleak than Bakura's.

After he left the FracDonalds tower, Bakura ran over to Joey's apartment, where the doctor was finishing up his examination. Serenity dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

The doctor, upon seeing Bakura, shook his head. "What's wrong?" Bakura whispered.

"It doesn't look good," the doctor answered, shaking his head again.

"What do you mean?"

"This wallpaper is so 1973." The doctor looked up at the wall and shuddered.

"What about Joey?" Bakura asked, looking at the wall. Oh, god, he was right about the wallpaper.

"He has severe tuberculosis. I'm afraid he won't make it," the doctor shook his head again.

"You mean he'll…"

"Yes. He will." The doctor's tone was grave.

"He will what? What will he do?" Bakura asked. "I seriously don't know."

"He will d-" The doctor was cut off by a man's screams from below the window and loud meowing. The doctor glanced out the window, then back at Bakura. "He's going to die."

Bakura let it sink in as he fidgeted with the white mesh of his shirt. "Oh. Does he know?"

"He woke up briefly, muttered something about a Shadow Realm, and fell asleep."

"Did you tell him he was actually going to die?"

"Yes," the doctor answered quizzically. "He seemed to take it well."

"Oh, dear." Bakura looked over at the door again. "Well, we'll have to get him sorted out later."

They didn't get around to explaining the mechanics of death to Joey the next day because Tristan came over.

They sat on Joey's bed in the studio apartment, watching television. Both wore 3D glasses cobbled together from cardboard, plastic sheets, and red and blue marker. Tristan was sure the public access card game channel's blue curtains and folding tables would pop right out of the screen with the help of their snazzy new glasses.

Joey was uncharacteristically quiet during the duels. Tristan wondered if he was paying attention at all, considering several large words had been used and Joey didn't ask the definition of a single one. Not that Tristan could tell him, but still.

"Where did you go?" Tristan asked suddenly.

"What?" Joey asked.

"Last night."

"Oh." Joey turned away. "I was sick."

Tristan dropped his shoulders. "You don't have to protect me. I know you had to go with him."

"But I really-oh, neva mind." Joey let his hand fall from the bedpost he was poking absently. He stared out the window. The cats were circling again. "Tristan, dis isn't workin'."

Tristan looked up. "What do you mean?"

"We can't keep seein' each otha like dis."

"Like what?"

"Like dis!" Joey yanked the 3D glasses off Tristan's face. "I don't think it's workin'."

"Oh. They made cool colors, though."

"And I hafta break up with you."

Tristan turned back to the television. One of the duelists was hitting the referee with his folding chair. "Oh. Because of Duke, right?"

Joey's voice was strained. "Right."

Tristan watched the chair fight for a while. Those white folding chairs looked very familiar. "Then I'll write a special song. And every time you hear it, you'll know I still love you."

Joey looked up. "What kinda special song?"

"A special secret song. Of secretive secrets." With that, Tristan began to sing:

_"I was all right, home free._

_My moves were chosen._

_Then you alight, near me,_

_Today I was frozen."_

Joey stared, eyes sparkling like a vampire's disco stick. Tristan continued:

_"I was sold, had me_

_At 'Let's duel in the rain.'_

_I triggered your card_

_But there is no pain."_

Joey fell forward. The sounds of the chairs hitting the people's backs provided the perfect beat and the caterwauling under the window formed a lovely harmony. "But how will you get Kaiba to put it in?"

Tristan thought for a while. "I have an idea."

The next day, everyone scrambled to rehearse the new song.

"This sequence would be perfect for you to show off your holographic technology," Tristan told Kaiba. "I've seen audiences like ours and they'll eat it up like ice cream."

Kaiba gave him a look that bordered on approving. "Of course they will."

Everyone put on their new hologram-emitting chest badges, headbands, and fingerless gloves and took their positions. Rhinestone-covered stars hung from the rafters in front of glittery white pyramids. Joey lounged on a couch that had been spray-painted gold, wearing a blue leopard print tunic with a pink bobbed wig. With all the reflective objects and Joey's second skin of body glitter, the downstage area seemed to be bathed in light.

Yami twirled across the stage, his pleated white shendyt kilt fanning out. He began to sing as he moonwalked to Joey:

_"All game, I wanna duel with you._

_Look at the cards I drew,_

_I'll play my card again, card again, oh joy!_

_All game, I'm getting subtle clues_

_You want another duel._

_Let's play that card again, card again, oh joy!"_ Yami thrust his hands upwards. The wings on his giant blue and white pinwheel disc bracelet fluttered.

Bakura and Kaiba watched from the folding chairs.

"What do you think?" Bakura asked.

Kaiba's eyes ran up and down Yami. "Stencil 'duel' on his chest in papyrus font." He looked to his right. "Weren't there two more chairs at the end of this row?"

On stage, Yami knelt in front of Joey with his hand outstretched. He pressed a button on his palm and the image of a spinning disco ball heart appeared. The heart alternately shattered and reassembled itself as he sang:

_"I was so blind, before._

_My heart was so broken._

_What do I find, but your_

_Reverse card open."_ The belts looped over Yami's torso rattled in rhythm as he gyrated.

_"Trick so old, but I_

_Fell for it all da same._

_You owned all my life_

_Points, but dere's no shame."_ Joey fluttered his duel card fan.

The lights went low. The actors on stage still had enough light, but all the audience would be able to see was the glow-in-the dark face and body paint worn by Joey, Yami, and the rest of the cast. Everyone else began to do the running man as Joey and Yami sang:

_"All game, I wanna kiss your neck_

_Shuffle your whole deck,_

_And play that card again, card again, oh joy!_

_All game, I wanna hold your hand._

_Rolling bones be damned._

_Just play that card again, card again, oh joy!"_

During the musical break, the lights returned to their original brightness. The dancers stuck horns made of gold conical birthday hats with purple streamers onto their foreheads. They pulled out rainbow colored ribbons and spun around the stage, swirling the ribbons through the air while Yami and Joey flung cards at each other. They stuffed the cards into the couch cushions, jumped up on the seat and continued to sing:

_"Be you bold, or shy_

_You're a hero, okay!_

_Just own the game_

_Like it's your birthday!"_ (1)

Glittering sparks shot out of holographic badges behind the two birthday hats on Joey's pectorals. Rainbows streamed from the hologram emitters on the dancers' headbands as they pranced in a circle around the stage. Yami shot lasers and rainbows from his hands while doing the vogue dance. Joey did a hoedown next to him while they finished the song.

_"All game, I'm gonna win the duel._

_Even if I lose,_

_I'll sing a melody, melody, oh joy!_

_All game, I wanna play with you,_

_Even when it's through._

_I've got the heart of cards, heart of cards, oh joy!"_ (2)

The music faded out. Duke sat in his folding chair, watching the scenes play out in front of him. It was all so overblown. The music, the prancing, the rainbows shooting out of everyone's hands, the sparkles—he had to wonder if Kaiba was nipping something other than Abysmalinth when he green-lighted this spectacle.

Seriously, this story was not believable at all. Why should the courtesan fall in love so quickly with the penniless duelist when the pharaoh was clearly the better choice? Couldn't he see the pharaoh would be more able to pull him up the social ladder? Did it not matter that the pharaoh was richer, more powerful, and much, much sexier than the duelist?

"This story sounds very familiar," Duke mused to himself. The sexy, powerful, rich man…the poor, pointy-haired card game lover… "Holy art imitating life, Batman!"

Kaiba and Bakura looked back at him. Everyone followed suit.

"You have something to say, Duke?" Bakura said.

"I don't like this ending," Duke answered.

Kaiba stared at him with dull annoyance. Bakura asked, "Why not?"

"It doesn't make sense. I mean, love at first sight: what the hell? Also, it's just irresponsible. The audience will get the message that money isn't important, and that's the last thing you want to tell anyone in an economy like this."

"I think the audience is smart enough to realize it's just a play," Tristan responded.

"Still, just to be sure, maybe you should go for a more realistic ending. If it's too much of a happy ending, it won't be believable and they'll just be insulted."

"He does have a point, as much as I hate to admit," Kaiba considered.

"And maybe you should take out the secret song and all the holographic stuff."

"OH, HELL NO!"

Everyone jumped. Bakura returned the overturned chairs to their rightful positions and slid his chair a little bit further away from Kaiba.

"You don't agree?" Duke asked, the very picture of cool.

All eyes were on Kaiba, who was looking more like a rhino that got his tail pulled than a rational human being. "The holograms are staying. The ending is staying, too. It's too close to opening night to rehearse a completely new one. You should've made your suggestion earlier."

"But just a second ago, you were fine with a new ending. Did you change your mind that fast? Bakura, are you sure he's okay to be in charge of things like this?"

"I am in perfect control of myself!" Kaiba screamed.

"Admit it, you all probably admit the ending is silly, don't you?" Duke addressed the rest of the cast.

The actors and dancers decided now was the time to inspect the floorboards—they couldn't have people falling through the stage on opening night.

"Why would the courtesan fall for the duelist? He's such a loser. He has nothing to his name but some second hand clothes and a bunch of dueling tablets, he has no game whatsoever, and he's the least sexy thing since 900 numbers. Why would anyone, courtesan or not, in his right mind choose him over the pharaoh?"

"Because he doesn't love self-important pricks with dice fetishes!" Tristan blurted out.

Everyone turned their attention from Duke, Kaiba, and the floor to Tristan.

"I mean, self-important pricks with heel bone fetishes," Tristan corrected hastily. "Who can't riverdance and don't shoot lasers." (3)

Duke tossed his ponytail, having quickly recovered from the shock of learning that not everyone was floored by his sexiness. "I think the story will be rewritten. With the courtesan choosing the pharaoh, without the secret song, and without all that holographic nonsense."

Kaiba looked ready to attack, but Bakura restrained him. "Duke, that would be impossible at this point. You heard what Kaiba said about opening night."

"Cut Dukey some slack, will ya?" Joey hopped off stage and strolled over to Duke. He caressed Duke's ponytail, then discreetly wiped the mousse on his tunic. "He's cranky 'cause we haven't spent much quality time togetha." He turned back to Duke. "How's about we go to da FracDonalds tower and talk show business?" He ran a finger down Duke's cheek.

With that pink mop on his head and those birthday hats on his pecs, Joey was irresistible. "Okay," Duke said, hypnotized.

After the rehearsal, Tristan met Joey at the lockers.

"I wish you wouldn't go with the Duke."

"I have to entertain him. His mirror needs a break," Joey said, pulling on his t-shirt. He turned around to Tristan, who was leaning against the wall with his arms folded. "It'll be okay. We might mess around a little, but we won't go too far. You know I'm all yours." He gave Tristan a quick peck on the lips. Tristan softened.

"All right. Good luck."

Joey grinned. "Thanks. Dis'll be easy as falling off a chair."

Tristan watched as he strode down the corridor, off to save them all.

-O-o-O-

Kaiba cornered Noah in the foyer.

"Even I can't figure you out," Kaiba started. "Do you get off on betraying your family, or is there some other perk to 'royal ass kisser' I'm not seeing?"

"We need the money." Noah tried to shove his way out, but Kaiba refused to move. "I'm getting better results than you are. Without completely degrading myself, anyway."

"What do you call being at Duke's beck and call and picking up his dirty g-strings when he's done for the night?"

"Don't have to be so crude about it," Noah muttered. He pushed past Kaiba, who grabbed him by the shoulder. "Let go. He'll be pissed at me."

"You should care more that I'm pissed at you. You abandoned the company when things got slightly rough."

"Card games fell and you call that 'a little rough?'"

"Mokuba, Bakura, and I need you much more than Duke does. Why are you putting him above us?"

Noah just stared. Did Kaiba just admit to needing him?

"Don't go spreading it around," Kaiba said, reading his facial expression.

"I would like to rejoin the company, I really would. But we need money and Duke is offering ten times more than what I'd get at the Black Dragon. I kind of like eating, and I'm sure Mokuba does, too. Besides, isn't it enough that you're renting rooms in the house?"

Kaiba looked toward the floor molding. "I'm not sure I can afford to keep doing the 'service' that justifies the high rent."

Noah's mouth fell open. "You were…with the tenants…God, Seto!"

"I'm not proud of it, okay? Those first few months were hard on business and that was the only thing people weren't too scared to buy, other than food. It was a limited time offer. I stopped when we got out of the hole."

"And then you went to Chess Avenue." Noah started toward the door.

"I wouldn't have had to if you did your part for Kaiba Corp. That holographic scene was the perfect vehicle, and you know it."

Noah sighed and opened the door. "Tell me something I don't know."

-O-o-O-o-O-

Next up: "He's not your mate in this card game...Josephino."


	9. Don't say his name, just play card games

I made up a last name for Seto and Mokuba (from before they became Kaibas). It's not the one they'd have canonically, though, since I made it up based on what rhymed with the previous line (it's revealed in a song). This is also where the Eliteshipping comes in.

**A short explanation:** I realize that the original scene from the movie was very serious and sexual attacks are horrible. My intentions are not to make light of Satine's situation. That's why I wrote the Duke in this story doing something different than the one in the movie. I was only trying to keep the tone of the story relatively light (in regards to Joey and Tristan, anyway). Also, I actually like the characters and wouldn't want to write them into that sort of situation.

Note on the Spanish lyrics: "Tú no puedes rozartelo" means "You can't touch him." "Por un segundo" means "for a second." At least, as far as I can remember from my seven years of Spanish.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Yu-Gi-Oh_, its Abridged Series, _Moulin Rouge_, or any of the songs parodied in this story.

(1) This part is to the tune of "The Sign" by Ace of Base. So are the chunks starting with, "I think you'll find" and "You're out of line."

(2) The song Kaiba is singing is to the tune of "Judas" by Lady Gaga. This isn't that important, I just thought it might be funny, so I left it in.

(3) The rest of "Josephino" is to the tune of "Alejandro" by Lady Gaga.

(4) Duke's "sexy dance" lyrics are to the tune of "Don't Turn Around" by Ace of Base.

(5) To the tune of "All the Right Moves" by One Republic.

(6) To the tune of "Right Through Me" by Nicki Minaj. The parody of this doesn't correspond to any of the songs in the movie.

-O-o-O-o-O-

While the Black Dragon crew was cleaning up for the night, Tristan hit his head against the wall.

"Angst, angst, angst," he muttered as his hair-spike made an imprint in the plaster. On a particularly energetic bang, the spike stuck in the wall. Tristan shoved against the wall to detach himself and ended up pushing himself back away from the wall. He rolled into a darkened corner and continued to wallow in self-pity, despair, and general broken-hearted emoness.

Then damn Kaiba walked by.

Kaiba stopped in front of Tristan, who sat against the wall, his legs drawn up against his chest. He sneered down at Tristan. "Quit crying over him. You know it's best for all of us, so get over yourself."

Tristan couldn't stop himself. He sprung up and slammed Kaiba against the wall, then shoved him to the ground. Though Kaiba landed on his well padded behind, his fall looked rehearsed. Tristan figured someone like Kaiba would have to learn how to fall.

"Don't be a little bitch." In seconds, Kaiba was on his feet, giving Tristan a crooked smirk paired with lowered lids. "If you really want your happy ending, I could offer you a real good price."

Tristan recoiled. "Christ, how desperate are you, Kaiba?"

Kaiba's smirk widened. "How desperate are _you_?" He moved closer. "Wouldja like me ta shuffle your deck?" he asked, putting on a Brooklyn accent.

Tristan hurled himself at Kaiba. Unlike before, Kaiba fought back. The two rolled around, knocking over chairs and hitting each other until Yami pulled them apart. Kaiba walked away, muttering, "Wasn't worth the energy anyway." Yami sat on Tristan until he was sure Tristan had calmed down.

"Someone told me that love is like playing card games," Yami began. "I hope you used protection, both on the field and off because nearly everyone here is an experienced duelist, especially Joey."

Tristan put his head on the ground. "I shielded my naughty parts. But I neglected my heart…points."

Yami pulled out the world's smallest violin and began to play the intro to the world's saddest dance pop song.

"I know you're both in love, and not just with the cards, but you just can't be this way anymore…With Josephino," he breathed.

An upbeat burst of electronic music swept through the hall. Yami and the rest of the Black Dragon crew gathered behind him and began to strike authoritative poses in rhythm. They calmed down as Yami broke into verse:

_"You can't reach him, but you want him_

_He's a shiny thing put out of reach of you._

_Tú no puedes rozartelo._

_He's got a force field put in place, built by the Duke."_

Tristan turned away from the spectacle and continued:

_"His hands on your underwear._

_This is more than I can bear._

_Perfume drips with every grope,_

_Use lots of soap._

_Drives me insane, up in my brain,_

_Josephino!"_

_"It's just a phase."_ Kaiba gave a dismissive wave.

_"It's not a phase,_

_Seto Kaiba!"_ Tristan readied himself for an attack, but was restrained by Yami.

_"Get over it! Duke's crazy lust_

_Will keep us all from going bust,"_ Kaiba retorted.

_"This gravy train, it gives me pain_

_Like Rambo."_ Tristan clutched his head.

_"I must opine; I think that Duke has simply crossed the line."_ Yugi mused.

_"Deal notwithstanding, I find him demanding."_ Bakura stroked a white tendril of hair as he agreed.

_"Let's not malign the only one who has our checks to sign._

_Everybody just man up, and nothing about this could go wrong."_ Kaiba commanded. (1)

At the FracDonalds tower, the F-shaped lights outside the window brought out the gold in Joey's hair. Duke slid his hands down Joey's green spandex-hugged legs.

"I can give you a gaming revolution that'll rock your underworld," Duke purred.

"What about da endin'?" Joey moved closer to Duke.

Duke chuckled. "As your employer would say…" Duke lowered his voice to a throaty growl. "'Let them have their hocus-pocus ending.'" A limp clump of black hair fell in front of Duke's face. "After I get back from the bathroom," he said, rising, "we'll get down to it. And by it, I mean our underwear."

At the Black Dragon, the dance continued.

"Jealousy. It drives you mad. Don't surrender. Don't be a cad," Yami chanted as the crowd writhed to the music. He hopped off the stage and sank his vocal folds into the second verse:

_"He sells himself, but, oh, just maybe_

_He's not the only one."_ Yami nodded towards Kaiba.

_"You'd better run,"_ Téa advised, seeing Kaiba creep up behind Yami.

_"Keith was worthy, unlike some others._

_In a duel, he never quit 'til he was done,"_ Kaiba countered.

_"I bet Duke just can't avoid a_

_Massive case of schaudenfreude_

_Over all the duelists who_

_Said dice games blew."_ Bakura pondered.

Tristan threw open the doors of the theater. Everyone who wasn't watching Kaiba and Yami's fight marched behind Tristan as he sang:

_"I can't refrain; it's all in vain._

_Josephino!_

_You light my flame, we love card games_

_And the tango…"_

_"I'm gonna whip your Pharaoh butt_

_Just like I did with that mutt!"_ Kaiba had Yami pinned to the floor in the foyer.

_"You're so deranged, I like this change!_

_Oh, Seto!"_ Yami pretended to swoon at Kaiba's unintended kinky speech. He was soon pummeled.

_"I think you'll find that everyone I know has lost their mind."_ Yugi sang, twirling both index fingers around his ears.

_"I am commanding!"_ Kaiba pimp-slapped Yami.

_"Like watching a crash landing."_ Yugi pulled out a box of popcorn and munched away.

_"He shall be mine. "_ Duke fluffed his ponytail in the tower's bathroom.

_"I can't stop laughin' at his pick-up lines!_

_Crap, I betta just shut up, pretend dat he's suave, and play along."_ Joey smoothed his hair down as Duke reentered the room and the music temporarily faded out.

"So, about dat revolution?" Joey asked.

Duke grinned. "How do you feel about dice games on motorcycles?"

Joey blinked. Outside the window, he could hear the faint echo of Kaiba's voice singing, "Why must I always duel with superstitious fools? I'm shifting cards with Yugi daily." (2)

"I don't know how well dat'd catch on." Joey looked out the window. Where was that faint strain of techno coming from? And why did it seem to fade out as Kaiba shut the door of the tower behind him?

Tristan, on his way home, stopped under the FracDonalds Tower and by some strange coincidence, ended up under the very same window from which Joey peered absently.

"All game," he intoned wistfully.

Joey's scanned the streets for the familiar phrase. His eyes lit up like the golden F outside the window when they fell on Tristan.

Tristan shook his head. He had to man up, keep calm and carry on. "This whole campaign is acid rain, eating my soul."

Duke looked up. Joey had been looking away from him for a little longer than he liked. Duke followed Joey's line of sight and saw Tristan sigh and trudge down the street. A black cloud followed him, snowing on his head. Duke narrowed his eyes.

"So it's like that, huh?"

Joey spun around to see Duke glowering at him. The music started up again and Duke challenged him:

_"Care to explain this writer-bane?"_

_"I can answer…"_ Joey started.

_"The greatest mage could not assuage_

_This new anger._

_This mounting rage…I've lost my sage..."_ Duke shoved Joey into a chair and bound him to it in seconds.

_"Crap, I'm anchored."_ Joey sang, wondering how Duke could tie him to his chair so quickly.

_"Try not to look so damn nonplussed, Josephino."_ Duke caressed Joey's face before flicking his nose.

_"It's not dat way!"_ Joey argued.

_"It's not okay!"_ Duke mussed his perfectly coiffed hair.

_"You're a psycho._

_Oh, can't you feign you're not insane?_

_Por un segundo?"_ Joey pleaded.

_"You took the piss and killed my trust,_

_Why don't I test your Brooklyn lust?"_ Duke whipped off his pants to reveal a dice-patterned banana hammock.

_"Dere's no escape! Is dis duct tape_

_And a hemp rope?"_ Joey examined his bonds as best he could. (3)

Duke brought out a boom box from under the seat. "Now, you will sit here and you will watch this special sexy dance I have composed for you. And you will stay until the end, and you will clap."

Joey watched in horror as Duke pressed play on the boom box and began to thrust his crotch and sing:

_"Don't look away, or you're gonna miss my dance break, yeah._

_Just keep your seat, do you wanna see me look fly?"_ (4)

Duke continued to twist and grind against an invisible partner with his hands behind his head. Joey screamed silently, fighting against his bonds.

"Screw dis date, he has no rhythm!" Joey gasped, squirming in his seat. He managed to tip the chair over on its side so he could, unfortunately, still see Duke's dance. He shut his eyes upon realizing that Duke was too wrapped up in himself to notice his escape attempts.

"This is ridiculous." Something hit Duke's nose with a smack. Joey stopped his blind struggling and he and Duke looked up to see Noah brandishing a rolled up newspaper. Noah twirled the roll and Duke shortly got served:

_"You're out of line; I swear to god, you've gone and lost your mind._

_Look at that prancing—you call that romancing?_

_Dude, are you blind? You dance like your vertebrae are not aligned!_

_Now you better just sit down or you'll fall on your ass and land all wrong."_

The music ended as soon as Noah finished singing. As usual, nobody paid any attention or particularly cared that it wasn't going to start up again for a while.

"Seriously. What were you even doing?" Noah tapped his foot.

Duke pouted. "But it's my party-"

"And you have an important meeting to attend tomorrow." Noah pointed out the door. "Or do you want to oversleep and not have time to fix your hair?"

Duke shuffled out of the room and kicked the door closed behind him.

Noah untied Joey and removed the duct tape. "I apologize sincerely. He's usually not so…No, he's exactly like this. Even when he's sleeping."

Joey shook off the ropes and got up. "Thanks." He headed for the door, paused, and looked back. "How'd you end up with such a lousy job?"

Noah shrugged. "Just lucky. I've had worse."

"Okay, well, I should probably be escaping now." Joey exited the room, almost running into Kaiba on the way out.

"Did you get the job done?" Kaiba asked, putting his hand on the doorknob and blocking Joey.

"Well, kinda…" Joey stalled.

Kaiba stared him down. "You messed it up, didn't you?"

"It wasn't my fault!"

"He's right," Noah confirmed. "He did what Duke wanted. I had to step in because it got out of hand. Duke will get over it."

Kaiba's mouth tightened. "Just in case he doesn't, tell Mokuba I'm going to be out late tonight. I need to do damage control."

Noah snorted. "Sure. You're going to do Keith."

Joey left the tower with a rather unpleasant image in his head.

-O-o-O-

Bakura sat in the mansion's mirrored den. He tried to ignore the fuzzy zebra print chair tickling his legs. Duke swiveled his own chair around to face Bakura, who mentally thanked whatever deity existed for Duke's clothed state.

"What happened tonight was inexcusable." Duke leaned forward. "I can't let it go unpunished."

"What do you mean by that?" Bakura eyed Duke warily.

The room grew darker as Duke smirked. He knew installing that facial expression-activated dimmer was worth the money.

Minutes later, Bakura fled to the apartment block. He spotted a blond head peaking out from over the railing on the roof. He quickened his pace; he didn't know where Tristan was, but he could at least tell Joey that his suitor was certifiably insane.

Joey was sitting on the toilet, zoning out when Bakura reached the roof. "Joey, I have some bad news," Bakura started. "Joey?"

"Kaiba…Bandit Keith…Horrors…"

"Joey, snap out of it, Duke's going to kill Tristan!"

Joey twitched. "What? Why?"

"This play is threatening his status as the Duke. Also, he's sort of jealous of Tristan's relationship with you. He wants his new ending or else Tristan will meet his, and it won't be a happy one."

"But dat's stupid. Why would he kill him ova a play's endin'?"

Bakura sighed heavily. "Because dice games are serious business."

Joey fiddled with the flush handle on the toilet. "I guess you have a point."

"You have to end it with Tristan, for real this time. Especially since you're dying."

Joey's head snapped up. "What? Oh, yeah. I'm pretty sure I could duel-er, roll dice, or whateva dey do now to get out."

Bakura blinked. "Um, Joey, you're not going to the Shadow Realm. You're actually going to die."

"Come again?"

"You have tuberculosis."

Joey's eyes widened. "Oh. Crap."

"Maybe if you pretend you don't love him, it'll hurt him less," Bakura suggested.

Joey looked at him sideways. "Are you taking your emotional cues from Kaiba?"

"You seem to be taking dying forever surprisingly well."

The color drained from Joey's face. The surrounding scenery went blue. "Oh, god! I'm actually dyin'! I can't believe it! Even though I'm faintin' and coughin' up blood all da time!" Running black mascara spontaneously appeared his face. "Who'd a thunk it? Me? Da main character in dis trip of a plot?"

"Actually, that would be Tristan," Bakura muttered.

Joey ignored him and sank into a heap in front of the toilet. He lifted his head. The black eyeliner had disappeared, and so had the melodramatic display. Bakura put on a grave face and knelt beside him.

"I'm not ready to die," Joey whispered. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "But if I have to, I'm gonna go out fighting." He looked at Bakura. "We're endin' it our way and if Duke doesn't like it, he can screw himself because we have a revolution."

"But what about Tristan?" Bakura asked.

"I'll find a way to keep him alive. I'll make sure he's very far away from da Black Dragon Theater on opening night." Joey sighed. "Even if it's da last time I'll eva see him."

"I have my own plans to keep Duke from finding out about the revolution." Bakura stroked his giant hoop earring. "It'll be like playing with a weighed die."

Joey wasn't sure he liked the shadow cast over Bakura's face when he said that. "And if he somehow finds out?"

"We're dead."

They listened to the cats fighting in the alley below.

_"All da right cards in all da right combos..."_ Joey started a melody.

_"Yet we spiral down."_ Bakura finished. (5)

The toilet flushed in agreement.

-O-o-O-

The ceiling of Keith's trailer was a familiar sight to Kaiba. So was the battered bed, conveniently surrounded by a fridge, table with a phone, table with magazines (mostly dirty), television, and microwave. It was almost comfortable, if they both forgot the state of the world and their current situations.

Keith rolled off of Kaiba, wiping his brow. His leg knocked the near-empty bottle of lube off the bed. "You really aren't like the others."

Kaiba propped himself up on his elbows. "You don't say." He brushed a sweaty clump of hair out of his eyes. "And who are these others?"

Keith gave a short laugh. "Just your average common whores."

Kaiba sat up and searched through the covers for his black shirt. "I've seen the type."

"I'm sure you have." Keith grabbed two beers from the fridge. "And I'm not just talking about those new bits." He nodded toward Kaiba's new parts, given to him by the aliens a few months ago. Kaiba pulled the sheets over his lower half and continued to look for his shirt. "This time was different from all the other ones," Keith continued.

Kaiba looked up from the space under the bed. "How was this different?"

"You didn't fake it this time."

Kaiba raised an eyebrow. "And you would know this, how?"

Keith shot him a lazy half smile. "You always touch your forearm when it's real." The smile broadened. "Like you're drawing a card."

Kaiba pulled on his shirt. "It's just another duel." He stood on the bed and grabbed his underwear from the unused lighting fixture.

"Who would you say was the winner?" Keith took a drink of his beer.

Kaiba sat down on the bed. "It's pretty obvious." He looked up at the clock. "No time for a rematch."

Keith looked over at Kaiba. "Leavin' already?"

Kaiba was genuinely confused. "Why drag it out?"

Keith looked over at the fridge. "I figured you'd stick around for a while, like you used to."

"Mokuba's getting nervous about where I go at night." He started to get up, but felt Keith's hand on his shoulder.

"Please."

Kaiba stared. Keith was being polite; this must be serious.

"I thought we weren't going to get attached. Wasn't that the deal?" Kaiba muttered, not exactly fighting hard against Keith's hands on his shoulders.

"Kind of hard not to get attached when you're paying the same person for sex." Keith was giving Kaiba a long, hard look and he wasn't sure he liked it.

Kaiba jerked away from Keith's hold. "I get it. You get off on playing Captain-save-a-ho. Well, you can stop it. I'm not one of those pathetic people."

"Can it. I don't need to hear another rant on how you can take care of yourself." Keith scratched his head. "I mean, what are you doing, really?"

"What does it look like? I'm making some extra money so I can care for my brother and salvage my company."

"But like this? You're Seto fucking Kaiba. Why are you whoring yourself out?"

"Do you see me prancing around Chess Avenue? I'm not whoring."

Keith tittered. "Last time I checked, having sex with people for money is whoring."

"It's not always sex."

Keith was startled by Kaiba's suddenly quiet voice. "Oh?"

"Sometimes I fix their computers—those of them that have one. Sometimes, they want a duel. Sometimes…" he trailed off. "Well, you're not stupid; you can figure it out."

"No, I don't think I can. There are seriously sick people out there; I'm pretty sure you know that. How do you know someone's not gonna cut you up and stuff you in their fridge?"

"Ha! Most of my usual customers can't afford a fridge."

"I'm serious, Kaiba. You could end up like a hooker in Grand Theft Auto."

"Those hookers didn't have their own crowbars."

"What about when you can't fight back? Like, if someone stabs you with a syringe or chloroforms you?"

Kaiba stared back at Keith with an empty expression. Just as quickly, it turned to derision. "What the hell is this, twenty questions? Why do you care if I walk out of here and get my kidneys stolen? Why do you even care about me?" he shouted.

"Because you remind me way the fuck too much of myself!" Keith yelled back. "You think having another burnt-out, ex-champion duelist screwing everything in sight, wasting his life over dueling is really gonna help anything?"

"It's going to help my family, at least." Kaiba got up. "Where are my pants?"

"You're going down a bad path. Trust me."

Kaiba snickered. "You say 'trust me.' How can you expect me to take your advice seriously when you barely know anything about me?"

The strains of a hip-hop waltz swelled beneath their argument.

"You sure about that?" Keith prodded.

"As sure as I know you're cocky and cause big drama when you get too drunk. Which is nearly all the time." Kaiba sighed in mock exasperation, shaking his head. "Really, you ask me what I'm doing with my life and you're drinking yourself into oblivion?"

Keith glared, but his face settled into a smirk when the hip-hop waltz rose to a crescendo. He began to sing at Kaiba:

_"Don't you fight with me;_

_I can see through your shit._

_You expect me to quit?_

_There's no denying it._

_Even you know it's true,_

_Yes you do, yes you do, yes you do."_ Keith tilted Kaiba's face up. Kaiba wrenched away. Keith started to rap:

_"You think you're cool_

_That you can hide._

_Don't be a fool._

_You've got two sides._

_The other's silenced,_

_You thought it died._

_The hole in your mask_

_Is getting wide._

_Take it from me_

_You're not so hidden._

_Your locked-up mind?_

_Not so forbidden._

_I see your cards_

_Lit up like Vegas_

_I know your deck_

_A to Omega."_ Keith gave a snort of a laugh.

_"I say you're lying._

_Not even spying_

_Would help you get it._

_So quit your prying."_ Kaiba folded his arms.

_"And quit your fighting._

_Ain't rocket science._

_You think of Noah_

_And of Mokuba_

_And of the crew_

_And that Damn Duke."_

Kaiba gaped at Keith. How the hell did he know anything about the Duke? Keith just turned around, still smirking.

_"That's right, I knew._

_It ain't a fluke."_

Kaiba picked up his boot to throw it at Keith's back.

_"You'll grab your boot_

_And throw it at me._

_Your point is moot,_

_Your moves, I can see,"_ Keith finished. Kaiba dropped his boot, still openmouthed.

_"Every night with me_

_You reveal every bit._

_Poker face full of slits._

_There is no hiding it._

_I'll make you…"_ Keith reached over and pressed certain very responsive areas of Kaiba's body.

"Ahh…ahh…OHHH!" Kaiba moaned in ecstasy as Keith hit all of his sensitive spots.

Kaiba jerked himself away from Keith, still reeling from the pressure point stimulation. He turned to face him, half singing, half yelling:

_"You can't see through me._

_For all your bedroom tricks,_

_I'm not convinced one bit._

_No, you don't know jack shit._

_You don't know."_

_"Don't I?"_ Keith grinned.

_"No, you don't!"_

_"Don't I?"_

_"No, you don't!"_

_"Don't I?"_

_"No, you don't!"_

_"Don't I?"_

_"No, you don't!"_

Kaiba shifted his weight. "So that's how it's going to be, huh?" He circled Keith for a few seconds and continued the rap:

_"You think you know me?_

_Well, then I'll try ya._

_So what's my real name?"_

_"It's Seto Kaiba."_

_"No, keep trying."_

_"Is it O'Brien?"_

Kaiba was shocked. _"Must be a trick!"_

_"Guessed that one quick."_ Keith shrugged.

_"You've got some nerve-"_ Kaiba clenched his fists.

_"Think you can guess_

_My every word?_

_This is absurd."_ Keith and Kaiba spoke in unison, moving closer to each other with every sentence. Keith's timing was too perfect.

Kaiba wrenched himself out of Keith's orbit. _"Think you can push all of my buttons, well, you don't know nothin', my questions, you're ducking."_

"Oh?" Keith raised an eyebrow.

_"It's not impressive;_

_You sound obsessive._

_Also possessive,_

_Passive aggressive._

_Can't read my mind,_

_Though you can try."_

_"Yugi could match you;_

_I wonder why._

_Could it have been_

_The mental shatter?_

_But that's the past,_

_That doesn't matter."_ Keith waved dismissively.

Kaiba's mouth fell open.

_"You could turn a stalemate to a check._

_Break a mastermind down to a wreck."_ Kaiba fell to the bed.

_"You cut right through me._

_This is no magic trick._

_How could I be careless?_

_How could I let it slip?_

_How could I? How could I?_

_How could I? How could I?_

_How could I?"_ Keith slapped Kaiba on the back. That seemed to stop the skipping.

_"You can't lie to me."_ Keith's arms closed around Kaiba's waist.

_"How do you know that shit?"_

_"Call it a 'subtle gift.'_

_Bet your ass it won't quit."_

_"How can you, how can you?"_

_"I will do it to you 'til we're through."_

Kaiba shook his head. _"Stop!"_

"Wait, let me rephrase that last part…" Keith started.

Kaiba recoiled from Keith as if he were a snake. Keith came forward, but Kaiba threw his hands up.

_"Stop."_

"Just let me explain."

_"Ohhhh…Would you stop treating my mind like a damn plaything?_

_Oh, I can't take it!"_

Kaiba collapsed onto the bed in a heap. The music stopped.

"Oh, crap. I think I broke him." Keith gathered him up and held him upright. "Come on. Man up. You'd tell me the same thing." Kaiba was unresponsive.

Keith exhaled hard. "For the love of America…I didn't mean to come off like that," he said quietly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I give a rat's ass about you."

Kaiba looked up at him with dead eyes. "You've got a funny way of showing it." He studied the floor tiles as the music started up again and he sang the chorus:

_"One day you'll screw me."_

_"How can you say that shit?"_ Keith asked.

_"You've already done it._

_Feel like my head is split._

_Can't elude what you spewed._

_I conclude I am screwed._

_So unglued."_

Kaiba turned from Keith, but didn't try to fight him off.

_"But I'm not Yugi._

_And this is not a duel._

_Didn't mean to be cruel._

_I guess I was a tool."_

_"That is true, you're a tool, you're a tool_

_You're a tool, you're a tool."_

_"Yeah, maybe."_ Keith looked away. (6)

The hip-hop synth waltz faded into the sound of one of the neighbors yelling at them to "Shut off that racket and stop disgracing rap songs!"

"Where was that music coming from, anyway?" Keith wondered.

Kaiba smirked. The one thing Keith didn't know about him—and he'd be glad to tell him, just for the reaction. "Those 'new bits' I got from the aliens came with some crazy bonus features."

Keith's mouth hung open. "Does this mean you're charging extra now?"

-O-o-O-o-O-


	10. The hoedown must go on for Lover Puppy

This is where the reference to the Singapore dub comes in. They gave Bakura a Southern United States accent and I imagined what he'd sound like singing, and it made me think of country music. The musical number in this chapter is the result of switching to a fantasy of the 4kids/Abridged Bakura trying to sing a country-pop song. Yes, it's convoluted, but I needed a "Show Must Go On" type of number that would lighten the mood a little.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Yu-Gi-Oh_, its Abridged Series, _Moulin Rouge_ (not the book and not the movie), or any of the songs parodied in this story.

(1) To the tune of "Jesse Hold On" by B*Witched.

(2) To the tune of "Paparazzi" by Lady Gaga. The parody of this song doesn't correspond to any of the songs in _Moulin Rouge. _And the scene around it doesn't correspond to any of the scenes in the movie, either. It's inspired by Chicago, specifically "Miss Velma Kelly in an act of desperation." In fact, let's just call it "Mr. Seto Kaiba in an act of desperation."

(3) To the tune of "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey. Because it shares a chord progression with "Paparazzi."

-O-o-O-o-O-

Bakura ran a finger over his giant hoop earring. This was going to be a long week.

The show opened in six days. Yami still had fits of "reincarnation-induced" narcolepsy at the worst possible times and, in addition to that, they still had no idea how long he'd be with them or if he might "walk through the doors to the afterlife" again. Come to think of it, they didn't even know why or how he came back.

Yugi still kept forgetting the pivotal line in the final scene yet could recite the rest of his lines in his sleep. This was much to the annoyance of Kaiba, who was especially irritable because of Duke's constant pestering. Joey and Tristan were having bouts of melancholy because they had to ignore each other and because one of them was dying for real this time. Duke insisted on bringing Noah to rehearsals, who exchanged dirty looks with Kaiba while Mokuba planned to spend a lot of time practicing the songs in their bathroom so he didn't have to hear their screaming and the subsequent complaints from their tenants with mutant hearing.

"Break a leg" was fast becoming less of a good-natured saying and more of a threat around the Black Dragon Theater.

"What would Florence do?" Bakura thought. He tweaked a white tendril against his giant hoop earring. "That's it! He'd stab Duke and steal the money! Wait, that's a horrible idea." Bakura reminded himself that the acquisition of the money to buy Kaibaland was the first and last time he'd steal without the help of the ring spirit. He racked his brain for another solution.

"I've got it." Bakura whipped out a banjo and plucked at it while singing:

_"Show him your hand, let him win the duel_

_With his pair of dice and rules."_

He picked up the pace and was backed up by fiddles, guitars, and the familiar synthesizer that had been present in all the random musical numbers thus far.

_"Riding aimless on subways-_

_No, the tube, it's the tube, yeah, the tube._

_Oh, wait; we no longer have a train._

_It was derailed and everybody wailed."_

In the changing room, Joey put on his green jacket, singing:

_"Give me a hand dat can win dis duel,_

_Or a pair of dice, wit' Duke."_

Joey closed his locker to find a note stuck to the door. In neat cursive, it read, "Don't buck the establishment yet. Play the Duke's way and nobody else gets hurt." He didn't bother to remove it, but he did chuckle at the fact that the letter b's looped below the lines, looked like f's, and gave the note an entirely new meaning.

Bakura revved up his banjo for another chorus:

_"Oh, let me be strong_

_From dusk 'til dawn, and on, and on, and on._

_Oh, let's sing a song_

_'Til we're gone, and on, and on, and on."_

Bakura launched into an electric banjo solo. His white hair exploded out of a blue gingham bandanna that suddenly appeared on his head. Yugi made record scratching sound effects with a zipper and a playing card.

"Hmm, needs more…something," Bakura thought aloud, continuing to pluck at the banjo in a less energetic manner. Chorus ladies dressed as pink desert elephants in pleated dresses skipped across the stage, jingling cowbells.

Joey trudged down the streets with both hands in his pockets. The few people on the streets were huddled around trashcan fires. He passed an abandoned storefront with a massive crack in the window. Through the hole and the dirty glass, he saw a group of young men, hunched over a makeshift duel field. Two figures stirred on the mattress behind the group. As he walked by, one of the two figures turned around, and Joey and Kaiba stared each other dead in the eye. Joey turned away and continued to Tristan's apartment.

_"Every single card I drew_

_Was for you, but dey blew, so I'm screwed._

_Oh, yeah, forget love, go get dat chedda._

_Don't let me be a giant epic fail!"_

The group of duelists stared out the window at Joey as he gesticulated madly at the sky while singing. They followed the sound of the music and turned to Kaiba, who shrugged and shoved money into his trenchcoat.

Back at the Black Dragon, Bakura and the players continued their hip-hop hoedown. Currently, Yugi spun on his head, Yami riverdanced around him, and Bakura sang:

_"Give him a hand, let him break the rules_

_With his pair of dice, you'll duel."_

Joey took a deep breath and marched toward the Kaiba manor apartments in a sudden burst of energy. He wasn't long for this world—why not go down dueling? Screw Duke's rules, they had a revolution!

_"Oh, da show must go on._

_From dusk 'til dawn, and on, and on, and on._

_I won't be a pawn_

_In dis song, and on, and on, and on."_

_Joey stopped on a patch of grass and sang the finale:_

_"Oh, like Donkey Kong_

_It is on, and on, and on, and on!"_

Rex crawled out of a cardboard box and yelled:

_"Hey! Get off my lawn!"_

_"Just hold on!"_ Joey scratched his neck sheepishly and moved to the steps. (1)

Back at the theater, Bakura went to calm down at his desk. Who knew a hoedown took so much energy? More importantly, how did everyone, even the non-dancers, manage to do it with such synchronicity when it was completely spontaneous? And where did they learn the music to a song none of them had ever heard and come up with lyrics? Where was that music coming from, anyway? And how exactly did an electric banjo work?

Come to think of it, that'd been happening a lot lately. No wonder rehearsals were going so smoothly; everyone was getting practice with these impromptu musical numbers.

"What exactly was that?" Yugi asked in the hallway.

"I'm not entirely sure." Yami adjusted his kilt. "But I get the feeling we shouldn't question it."

Bakura sank into his chair (as much as one could sink into a hard seat) when the door swung open and Kaiba charged in. Before Bakura could ask what was so urgent, Kaiba reached inside his trenchcoat, pulled out a wad of cash, and shoved it at him.

"Here. It's insurance."

"For what?" Bakura flipped through the stack. All tens and twenties; which duelists had Kaiba been soliciting?

"In case Duke backs out after last night. He's getting impatient; he asked about moving our deal to the last rehearsal instead of opening night, but I told him he should've thought of that when he signed the contract." Kaiba rummaged through the closet next to the observation window until he found a blond wig that was straight out of 1987. "Are you going to lock up tonight?" he asked.

"I suppose. Where are you going?" Bakura asked.

"To keep Duke in check," Kaiba said and walked out the door.

-O-o-O-

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Seto?" Mokuba nervously adjusted the bag that held his keytar and stared up at the looming manor. The walkway seemed to stretch for blocks in front of them. Oversized dice hung from the streetlights in front of the property. A neon sign on the porch spelled out "DUKE" in large blue letters, lighting the front yard up like the medicinal joints Joey had been smoking. A few cardboard boxes, no doubt former homes of former duelists, lay tossed in a pile under the porch. The dogs that chewed them up guarded the pathway.

"This is our last chance to convince him to let us keep the holographic elements," Kaiba answered as he adjusted something in his pocket. He put on a pair of hologram-emitting fingerless gloves and shoved the gates open. Like clockwork, the Duke's dogs sprung up, snarling and snapping. Kaiba flashed them a wisdom teeth baring smile and widened his eyes to look like a doe on coke. The dogs wilted and dragged themselves away, whimpering hoarsely.

Mokuba jumped when Kaiba turned to him with that expression on his face. "Don't worry. I won't do anything too crazy."

Mokuba followed his brother into the house past the dice-ridden lawn. He really wished Seto had worn his trenchcoat; the fact that he was willing to be in public in a green plaid corset over a purple shirt wasn't a good sign.

"Duke sure has a lot of mirrors," Mokuba commented as they walked down the hall. A video camera perched on the frieze and craned as they walked by. The sound of Kaiba's boots against the checkered floor ricocheted down long corridors.

"And I'm sure some of them go both ways." Kaiba eyed the surveillance cameras that followed them down the hall. He stopped in front of one, looked up at the camera protruding from the mirror's surface, and leaned in close, cupping his hands around his eyes. "Oh, hi, Duke."

A mirrored door to the left of them opened and Duke poked his head out. "Right on time." He beckoned for them to enter and the brothers walked into the green and purple paneled sitting room.

"I see you like looking in mirrors, too," Duke said, leaning back in his purple easy chair at the end of the table. Mokuba sat down at the other end and unpacked his keytar. "Is Little Brother going to be watching, too?"

"He's helping me with negotiations. I'm going to get right into it, if you don't mind."

Kaiba turned to Mokuba. "Just play the chord progression, and I'll do the rest." He flipped a switch inside his pants. He sauntered to the table, in time to the beat. Mokuba played the chord progression on his keytar while Kaiba sang.

_"We've had some routs,_

_But there is no doubt,_

_We're no clueless fools,_

_We all see it is true,_

_Ever since the Fall,_

_Every shot was yours to call."_

Duke sat up, intrigued. His eyes were puppets and Kaiba's swirling hips held the strings.

_"You have the means;_

_Without you, we're bust._

_But all of our scenes_

_Could be much more than just_

_A homage to dice._

_Come on, Dukey, name your price."_ Kaiba whipped off his black pants.

_"Big brother, are you high?"_ Mokuba almost fingered a wrong key in his shock.

Kaiba continued to sing while twirling around just his shirt and corset, black and silver briefs, and boots. He interspersed the dance with the high kicks they'd been rehearsing.

_"Come on, play a hand, and duel me down until you stump me._

_Play your card and trump me._

_I don't want another duelist, treat me right and I'll be_

_Your lover, lover puppy._

_Wouldn't it be nice?_

_The moment when I roll your pair of dice?"_

Duke was pretty sure this wasn't how a negotiation with Kaiba should ideally go, but how could he resist that thrusting pelvis?

_"Dukey, I'm so shameless give me a just a chance and I'll be_

_Your lover, lover puppy."_

Kaiba turned to Duke and stood still. "You could expand your empire. Why stop at dice? Conquer card games, then virtual reality, then…the world." Kaiba's eyes gleamed like their neighbors' tinfoil hats. Mokuba nervously turned up the bass knob on his keytar.

"Sounds, um, interesting," Duke said, looking down at Kaiba's legs. Kaiba was carrying those extra thirty pounds surprisingly well.

"You could use holograms to spread that powerful, sexy image all over the world. I can show you, if you let me." Kaiba spun around and launched into the second verse.

_"I'll be your guide,_

_Your man on the side._

_Domino's in the dark_

_But we'll soon make a mark,_

_I'm willing to bet_

_We could be a triple threat."_

Kaiba jumped up on the table and continued to gyrate madly.

_"Card games return._

_But that ain't our concern._

_We only care why_

_Players pick up the die._

_They bask in the light,_

_From the holographic sights."_ Rainbows shot from the silver holographic patch over Kaiba's pelvis as he thrust his hips.

_"Oh, dear god, just why."_ Duke's jaw dropped.

Rainbows and lasers shot from Kaiba's hands as he waved his arms around like a windmill and continued to sing.

_"Let the holograms erase their ground in reality._

_Feed your sexuality._

_With the Kaiba brothers, you'll go far if you let me_

_Be your lover puppy._

_Let me blow your mind._

_I promise you, we'll never get behind."_ Kaiba swished his own ample behind. A pinwheel spun over the holographic patch in his underwear.

_"We'll never be aimless, lay me down, undress, and I'll be_

_Your lover, lover puppy."_

Duke's eyes started to lose focus when Kaiba donned a blond wig and continued in a much-exaggerated Brooklyn accent:

_"We could draw hands, give da dice a roll._

_Slap, slap cards on my body like a pro._

_Oh, Duke, we'll have so much fun;_

_Get spastic 'til da risin' sun!"_

The wig flew off after a particularly energetic neck swivel. Duke gaped at Kaiba's ability to stay on rhythm while acting like one of the feral cats on the street. Holographic flames shot out of the patch on Kaiba's underwear, their shape echoed in his now wild hair. Duke retreated slightly at the flames' reflection in Kaiba's eyes. Kaiba threw himself down on the table and began convulsing while singing.

_"Sanity be damned, I'll break you down, get up on me;_

_Make me your lover puppy!_

_Never mind my brother, he's old enough; he's eighteen!_

_Lover, lover puppy!"_

Duke edged his chair away as Kaiba sat up and dragged himself across the table towards him, singing:

_"I am so inclined_

_To never stop until your butt is mine!"_

Mokuba put down his keytar and headed for the table.

_"Nobody would blame ya if you broke down and bought me!_

_Mokuba, get off me!" _(2)

Mokuba dragged a kicking, squirming Kaiba off the table. "I think that's enough," he muttered. He held Kaiba back while he packed up his keytar. Kaiba paid him no mind and continued to shout-sing, even as the music faded out.

_"Don't stop our dealing!_

_We'll be dancing on the ceiling!"_

_"Seto, you're screaming."_ Mokuba whispered sharply. He grabbed Kaiba's pants, draped them over his keytar bag, and walked out the door, pulling his brother behind him.

Duke could only sit, frozen, as Kaiba's retreating voice reverberated off the halls. _"We may win; we may lose! But I was born to screw the rules!"_ The singing degenerated into hysterical laughter and incoherent shrieking. (3)

Duke shook his head, hoping to restart his broken brain. "Syphilis is a hell of a disease."

-O-o-O-o-O-

The giant hoop earring totally isn't the Millennium Ring. Really.


	11. Putting the Yugi back in the Yugioh fic

It has some Rivalshipping. I tried to make it in-character, for the situation, which meant estimating how the two would act as young adults (after Kaiba has resolved his issues and has learned to trust at least Yugi). Yugi's part in this chapter was also inspired by (but not based on) the story of the novel and 1952 film version of _Moulin Rouge, _only Yugi-Toulouse gets a happy ending. Also, I explain why Yami/Atem has his own body.

(1) This song is to the tune of "American Pie" (it's the same song from the first chapter).

-O-o-O-o-O-

Tristan downed another glass of Abysmalinth at the local dive and looked around.

The bar, which had resembled a crack house, was now a Technicolor funhouse. The bartender looked like a candy factory exploded on his clothes, the customers were now supermodels, and the world outside looked so bright and non-threatening, the best kiddy show dubbers in the world would bawl with glee. The pink elephants sitting on the bar swayed their trunks to the music (which Tristan was sure he could taste) coming from the stage.

"Almost drunk enough." Tristan sat back in his seat and waited for the next glass. It was a good thing he'd opted for a chair instead of a stool, or his buzz would've been ruined pretty fast and all that drinking would have been for naught. The week was rough enough without wasted money on ineffective self-medication.

Yesterday was Thursday.

"Thursday was torture," Tristan thought.

Today, it was Friday.

"Friday's not much better." Tristan took a big gulp of the newly arrived drink. Tristan should have been excited, but instead of having a ball, he felt as though he had been kicked in one.

Tomorrow was Saturday, and then came Sunday. Two more days of having to see Joey, but be rendered invisible by the Duke's anger and jealousy. Kaiba had told everyone they couldn't afford to have two days off so close to opening night. Tristan usually relished seeing his words come to life, but right now, he really wanted the weekend to end, and fast. As for the rest of the days, they'd all blend into one until the big show.

At least he'd picked a good seat. He was close enough to hear the music, but not so close that it made his head hurt. Out the window, he could see a rusted school bus that was used as a makeshift shelter. He wasn't sure if the green aura was due to some form of unrealistic radioactivity or little green fairies.

"Now I'm drunk enough." Tristan relaxed and turned his attention to the show. His face fell when he saw the performers on stage. "Oh, no."

Kaiba sat at the battered electric piano while Bandit Keith sat next to him with a scratched-up guitar. Kaiba typed at the keys while Keith strummed and sang a verse that reminded Tristan way too much of the good old days:

_"Did you summon everyone_

_Before your first three turns were done?_

_Oh, but dueling's dead, you know."_

Tristan put his head on the table as Keith continued:

_"Did you really believe the cards had soul,_

_And that they'd save you from this festering hole?_

_And can you believe we've all sunk this low?"_

Kaiba picked up the next part:

_"Now I duel with my two fists._

_The dice master's first on my list._

_But all of that's old news._

_Oh, god, we're out of booze!_

_Since the card games fell, everything sucks._

_Domino's a tar pit and I'm a mammoth, stuck._

_And if I'm struggling, then we're all fucked_

_Now that the dueling's died._

_But I keep singing…"_

Tristan barely heard the chorus over the roar of his own thoughts. Who did he think he was, anyway? Did he really think his play would make a difference in the revolution? Only a few months ago, he'd been writing local news articles from an office with no door. The thing was printed on the back of old newsprint with markers. For the love of Ra, he wasn't even normally a main character! What made him think he had the talent and charisma to pull this off?

He paid his bill as Kaiba sang the next verse.

_"Met a dragon with eyes of blue_

_And I asked him which rules I could screw._

_He said, 'Are you drunk today?'"_ (1)

_"I went to find my favorite whore."_ Keith recovered quickly from the thump he received for that line. Tristan left the bar, the rest of the song fading as he neared the Kaiba apartments.

He looked up at Joey's empty balcony as he entered his side of the building. He was going to lose this game war, and he was going to lose his boyfriend. He couldn't figure out why he thought he had a chance at actually doing something. It's not like he was Yugi, or something.

He trudged to his apartment and plopped down on the couch. Maybe if he hadn't gotten so caught up in the excitement of it all, it wouldn't hurt so much when he got let down.

"What's the point? We're all just going to die, anyway," Tristan sighed. Melodramatic rock music played faintly in the distance.

He heard a knock on the ceiling and looked up. Yugi was peering down at him from the hole, which had been hastily patched up with planks.

"I couldn't help hearing your angst, and I was wondering if you'd lost your mind."

Tristan gaped at the hole. "I think wallowing in self-pity is a pretty normal response to my problems."

"Yeah, it's normal. But you can't react the way a normal person would."

"And why the hell not?" Tristan yanked himself into a sitting position.

"Because you're not a normal person. You're the protagonist," Yugi said. "You can't just sit here, crying like a bitch and feeling sorry for yourself. You gotta get out there and win some duels!"

"But I don't have a deck," Tristan said.

"Then make one out of index cards, or bottle glass, or scrap metal, or something. Most people don't even duel with real cards at this point. Just don't write emo poetry and cry all over it, because that's going to be really embarrassing if someone plays 'Lullaby of Obedience.' Also, cards don't make good tissues, especially when they're made out of rusted metal."

Tristan laughed weakly and sat back. "Easy for you to say. You're used to doing things like that."

"What about the time you punched out that guy who's obsessed with his own hair?" Yugi said.

Tristan's shoulders sagged. "Didn't he just land on his feet and flip me, or something?"

"Okay, bad example." Yugi thought for a while. "What about when you went to get Joey after those thugs took his Red Eyes Black Dragon? You really talked some sense into him then."

"Did that actually happen?"

"Um. I don't know." Yugi racked his brain. "I got it! You were Hall Monitor! You were important at school."

"We hardly ever went to school," Tristan reminded him.

"Look, do you want to be the protagonist, or not?" Yugi drummed his fingers on the floor.

"Sorry. Go on."

"Okay, then." Yugi went back to thinking. "When you were a kid, you could hit a quarter with a BB gun from 50 feet away."

Tristan perked up. "Holy crap, really?"

"You were the one who threw Bakura's evil ring into the woods and rescued Mokuba. You jumped on Nezbitt's head and saved Kaiba in the virtual world." Yugi continued. "And you beat up three rare hunters."

Tristan sat in amazed silence. "Oh my god. I was a hero and I didn't even know it!"

"Well, knowing is half the battle. Now you have to go out and be what you know you are." Yugi contemplated rewording his statement, but decided it would ruin the mood.

Tristan sat up. "Yeah, you're right. Why should I just sit here and throw a pity party? Friday is not for that kind of partying!"

"Damn right it's not!" Yugi agreed.

Tristan jumped off the couch. "I am a man. A man with a plan. A man with…" He looked around the room and saw his old newspaper materials. "Magic Markers."

"Do you need any help making your deck?" Yugi asked.

Tristan snatched up the markers and paper. "No, thanks. I got this."

Yugi smiled through the cracks of the boards. "You got this."

-O-o-O-

Yugi watched through the hole in the floor until Tristan closed the bedroom door. He jumped on his own couch and made himself comfortable.

Tristan was going to make his deck from a hundred blank index cards. And Yami was fast asleep in the other room. "Finally," Yugi thought. "I have a whole scene to myself."

It was dreadful not being the main character anymore. It seemed like everyone else, even a barely secondary character like Bandit Keith, got the best lines, songs, and jokes (and the glory of out-arguing Kaiba). Hell, Tristan got whole verses, sometimes even two in a song, sometimes with the chorus! Tristan, of all people! And Bakura got the lead in not one, not two, but three songs! The writers must've been on crack to pick these roles.

And what did Yugi get? A few lines in some cheesy 80s and 90s pop parodies and the role of fall guy to Bakura (seriously?). Lame.

He thought he had it made in the shade when Yami walked through those doors to the afterlife. Adios, sharing the spotlight, hello to all the screen time in the world!

Then Duke Devlin came in with his dice. Yugi thought nothing of it at first, other than, "I have to duel him again? I've got this in the bag."

He lost and their card-house government fell like…well, a card house. Solomon, upon seeing the mass chaos of a world without dueling, said, "I'm way too old for this shit," and joined a survivalist commune. Yugi hadn't heard from him in a while, but the subway graffiti announcing, "Apdnarg will rise again!" always made him pause.

Duke didn't want any of the old game shops around to remind people of the old ways, so Yugi moved into the Kaiba apartments. This was to be the first step toward a rather interesting development in his relationship history.

Yugi was all set to start his new life, sure to be filled with mastering dice games, working his way to the top of Duke's court, then bringing the old card game system back from the inside. It was going to be super-special awesome, like one of those spy movies, only with dice and cards. And now he could grab some weapons from the survivalist base he'd tracked down and possibly craft his very own Egyptian laser. He'd seen all of MacGyver; he knew what he was doing.

But one day, he woke up and went into the bathroom. He'd stripped down to his birthday suit and was ready to get in the shower when he noticed the shadow against the curtain.

"Kaiba, I thought we discussed this," Yugi said, grabbing a towel.

"I'm not Kaiba," the familiar voice said.

Yugi spun around. Standing behind him was Yami, looking as if he'd never gone to the afterlife, leather pants and all, except for one small detail: he was opaque and took up physical space.

"I'm back," Yami sing-songed. "Can someone explain why?"

Neither of them had any idea, but they figured it must have had something to do with the government collapsing. The fall of card games must have caused a glitch in the universe. Yami's spirit was so intertwined with the Heart of the Cards that as long as there was trouble in the dueling world, Yami was bound to this realm. Since his knowledge of himself was complete, so was his body.

Of course, suddenly becoming corporeal after crossing over had its drawbacks. One was the narcolepsy. The other was the lack of a mind link, so there could be no more sarcastic comments to each other around Kaiba (at least not when he was in the room). Yugi would soon lose the desire to make sarcastic comments at Kaiba, anyway.

So he had to share his screen time with Yami again. He was used to that. Yami was good about sharing, and in another life, Yugi was Yami, so it wasn't like he was really losing anything.

He didn't even care that the writers decided to turn their lives into a story about French people. At least it would keep Bandit Keith away. And he got to be in the main character slot again! He was probably only in the spot because of his height (though the cause of his size was not disfigurement, but genes for a petite, small-framed body), but whatever. He got to be a cool artsy type that all the girls (and guys) would want. He hoped they weren't going to write him as a hipster stereotype; that would be so hopelessly mainstream.

Then the writers went the opposite direction. They weren't following the original plot (they weren't even going to read the novel it was based on). They were—it was almost too horrible to say—using the most popular version.

And that meant Tristan was the lead, since his name rhymed with that other guy's name, and nobody even knew anything about him, so they wouldn't notice if his goal to be a writer was out-of-character. Seriously, who'd really object to it? He was the least developed, so he could join the circus for all anyone cared.

But Yugi was happy for him. He was his friend and all, and friends had to be happy for each other or else they'd be on the stairs one day and—oops! There he goes down the stairs, and then Joey gets beat up at a rock concert and before you know it, you have to murder someone and hitchhike out of town in some dodgy truck.

Yugi was suddenly very grateful that he was in this story and not one that took place in the nightclubs and hotels of Las Vegas. After he contemplated Joey's situation, he became more grateful that he wasn't the main character of this particular plot.

"I don't think I want to kiss Joey," he thought. "And I guess it's not so bad I'm not everyone's love interest. I mean, everybody's got TB and shit."

Besides, he realized that being a side character wasn't completely terrible. He was still important enough that nothing really bad was going to happen to him, but there was no pressure on him to save the day. It wasn't his problem anymore.

Also, as a supporting character, he actually had more freedom. He wasn't bound to the script the way Joey, Tristan, and Duke were. All he had to do was fulfill his purpose for that particular scene, and then he could do whatever he wanted, as long as he was back for the next one.

That left him some free time to pursue other interests. Even though dueling was (supposedly) a thing of the past, he figured he couldn't let his dueling skills go soft. But the problem was, mostly everyone had given it up. Sure, Joey was still dueling, but strangely Yugi began to get bored with winning all the time. He needed a bigger challenge.

So one day, a little before Tristan came to town, he rang up Kaiba and had him over for a duel. Then he did it again the next day. Then he did it the next day, and then the day after that. Yugi was actually sort of starting to like Kaiba. Maybe. A little bit, if he squinted. He liked him even more if he ignored Kaiba's weekly visits to Bandit Keith's trailer.

There was a turning point in their relationship a few months after all this started. Yugi was so used to their duel dates, he was surprised when he called Kaiba and got Mokuba instead. Kaiba was out, Mokuba told him. Probably trolling around Chess Avenue, trying to earn enough to get some new tables for the Black Dragon.

When Yugi got off the phone, he decided to take a walk. He grabbed his mace spray and a box-cutter and headed out. He didn't mean to, but he eventually ended up on the darkened edges of Chess Avenue. He knew it wasn't the best place to be at night, but he had a feeling he should keep an eye on Kaiba.

He decided to bite the bullet and walk right down the street. If he saw anything dangerous, he could always turn around and run back to where the streetlights weren't cut off.

He walked past the first busted storefront on the block. So far, so good.

"So, you gonna give it to me, or what?" A voice from the alley behind him threatened. "I know you've got that money."

"And that's as far as I go," Yugi thought. He spun on his heel and started back up the street. That voice did sound familiar, but he wasn't going to risk his kidneys to find out who it was.

"Or we could wait for your brother, let him see what happens when you don't follow the rules."

Wait. Brother? Rules?

Yugi crept quietly toward the alley. Though it was dark, he could make out the broad figure of a man, pressing another man to the brick wall. The assailant's right arm rested in the crook of his captive's neck while his knee kept the captive's lower body pinned to the wall. His left hand pulled a broken glass bottle from a nearby trash can. The sharp edges glared in the dim light.

"Or maybe I'm not saying it right," the assailant growled into his captive's ear. A nearby streetlamp buzzed and lit up the scene just as Yugi remembered the owner of the voice.

Ushio rolled the bottle up the other man's side. "What's it gonna be?"

"Leave my brother out of this." The captive forced his head around to get a better look at his attacker. His blue eyes widened when he saw the jagged bottle glass.

Yugi didn't think. He jumped on Ushio's back, knocking him off balance. Kaiba fell to the ground. The bottle slipped out of Ushio's hand and shattered against the concrete.

Before Ushio could say, "What the hell," Yugi sprayed him with the mace. Ushio screamed, trying to wipe the mace from his eyes.

"Oh, please, let this work," Yugi thought, as Ushio struggled up. With one hand on his box-cutter, he thrust the other one out and yelled, "Mind CRUSH!"

Ushio's body jerked and flopped like an electrocuted fish. Yugi and Kaiba took off running and didn't stop until they were safely in their building. They caught their breaths while they sat in the dark hall.

"What did you do to him, after the mace?" Kaiba asked. He wouldn't look at Yugi.

"I think I broke his brain," Yugi said quietly. He and Kaiba had just finished running for their lives, yet all Yugi could think about was if the other tenants could hear them. "My back-up plan was a box-cutter."

"You saved me." Kaiba still wouldn't look at Yugi. "Why?"

Yugi stared at him. "Because I think I like you, Kaiba."

Kaiba tittered, as if that were more unbelievable than their escape. "You and your hocus-pocus business."

Kaiba put up a strong front, but when they got to his room, he asked Yugi if he could hang around for a while. Yugi ended up spending the night, since he was practicing songs for the Black Dragon with Mokuba. Kaiba didn't seem to mind.

This went on for quite some time, and Yugi was starting to wonder about his former archrival. Was he on the drugs again? He didn't see any green in his hair, but still.

"Oh, well," Yugi eventually thought. "At least he's not putting cameras in my bathroom."

One night, Yugi went to Kaiba's apartment for their usual duel. He was looking forward to this one. With help from Yami, he'd gotten his hands on some real cards, made out of ink and paper and everything. This was a real treat, since Duke had every Duel Monster card destroyed out of the fear that they would threaten his dice games. Also, there was the fact that some of the humanoid monsters might be considered sexier than him. For years, things had reverted back to when Solomon was a teenager, and people dueled with rocks and other random junk they found on the streets.

Yugi had also brought his own set of homemade cards to use as decoys, in case Duke decided to randomly search their apartments for contraband (under the new "Loyalty to the Diceland" Act). He hoped Kaiba hadn't done anything too suspicious lately.

He knocked on the door. It opened and a hand reached out and dragged him into the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

Before Yugi could ask to be read his rights, he was tossed on the couch. "Hey, what the hell is this?" He sat up and almost fell off the couch when he looked up. Kaiba was sitting next to him, wearing a crazy plaid vest, dragon-covered boxers, and a purple trench coat.

"It's a duel. What else would it be?" Kaiba saw the decks of cards. "So you got them."

Yugi handed half the cards over. "Here are your cards."

Kaiba took the cards and flipped through them. "Just like the old one." He shuffled his new deck. "Thanks."

Yugi shuffled his own deck. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Wearing what?" Kaiba asked, drawing his hand.

"Uh…" Maybe it was nothing, after all. "Never mind." If Kaiba wanted to ignore social norms, Yugi wouldn't add to the awkwardness by pointing it out.

They dueled in silence. Yugi sort of missed their usual duels before Duke's reign. Shouting their actions at each other really eased the tension. But Noah could walk in on them any minute, and Yugi didn't know how loyal to Duke he was. He hoped Noah wouldn't rat them out, but considering Kaiba's strained relationship with him, Yugi would rather not take a chance on him.

Yelling at each other would at least distract Yugi from Kaiba's mostly bare legs. Several times, he found himself admiring the stubble (Yugi had trouble even growing a wispy mustache) and had to look away before Kaiba caught him.

"Hmm. This is boring," Kaiba said after a few turns.

"Just a little, yeah," Yugi agreed. "What should we do instead?"

Kaiba whipped off his trench coat. "Let me pay you back for the cards."

Yugi backed away. "Er…What."

"And for saving me," Kaiba continued, his eyes wild.

"What are you doing." Yugi couldn't even inflect properly.

"The Black Dragon's been struggling, and I hate IOUs." Kaiba lay down half on the couch, half off it. His body looked stiff as a board and was angled very awkwardly. It almost pained Yugi to look at him. "Don't you want to test your skills off the field?"

"Not really." Yugi shifted uncomfortably. "What about your brothers?"

"Mokuba's with Wheeler's sister. Noah is kissing Duke's ass. They won't be back for at least a few hours." Kaiba arched his back. Yugi was amazed; this was the first time he'd seen Kaiba look flat-out clumsy. "I promise this will be a quick transaction."

"I…I think I'm gonna pass on that."

Kaiba twisted into a sprawling position. "I don't have any diseases, I swear."

"It's not your physical health I'm worried about." Yugi looked around. Why did the door seem so far away?

Kaiba's hand clamped down on Yugi's shoulder. There was a look in his eyes that Yugi hadn't seen since Duelist Kingdom.

"Please…I don't have money. Screw me."

Yugi stared into Kaiba's eyes and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't."

Kaiba's expression was one of utter defeat, until he turned away, looking angry and hurt. "Fine. Don't take my payment."

"I didn't want payment, Kaiba," Yugi started, but Kaiba put up his hand.

"Why do I bother?" Kaiba jerked his trench coat shut around his body. "Can't even beat you in a duel, so why would my offer be good enough for you?"

"It's not that at all," Yugi argued, clearing the cards up. He handed Kaiba's reconstructed deck back to him, but Kaiba refused to take it.

"Keep your cards. And your pity," Kaiba spat.

Yugi slammed the cards down on the coffee table. "Do you seriously think I'm doing this out of pity?"

"No, I think you're doing this to keep me tied to you. If you don't take my payment, I'm in your debt." Kaiba turned away. "That's how it always goes."

Yugi pounded the armrest and jumped to his feet. "Damn it, Kaiba, I'm not one of your customers! What do I have to say to make you believe me?"

Kaiba glared at the floor. "Yugi, tell me something. Why would a guy like you, with your 'Heart of the Cards' crap and your friendship-is-hocus-pocus-magic, want someone like me? I'm corporate scum. No—I'm failed corporate scum-turned-trick-turner. I screwed people with money, and now I'm like a used-up dollar. My main business plans involve running around in body glitter and camping in Bandit Keith's trailer. I couldn't even open the Black Dragon without Bakura's help. My older brother hates my guts, and my younger brother thinks I've lost it. Why would you want anything to do with me?"

Yugi sat back down. Kaiba watched him carefully, as if he expected Yugi to whip out his box-cutter and rob him. Yugi cautiously slid closer to Kaiba.

"Because I know you're not that bad. I've seen how you care for your brother, and you've helped me several times in the past. You're the smartest person I know. And because, like I said the other night, I like you."

Kaiba stared at him as if he'd raised his dead parents from the grave.

Yugi put his hands on Kaiba's shoulders. "You're not the all-card-slinging, all-dueling crap of the world. You're just you. And I like you."

Kaiba stared blankly. Suddenly, his face twitched. He'd almost cracked a smile. "All right, all right. Just don't get all sappy on me."

Then they'd started a new duel, this time with Kaiba dressed more appropriately.

Yugi was jolted from his memories by a knock. He would recognize that knock anywhere: not hard enough to damage the door (because it cost money), but just short of pounding. He should; he'd heard this particular visitor's fist on hard surfaces ever since he started dueling people outside his social circle. Though, it only recently booted the sounds of singing cats from its spot as Yugi's favorite sound.

If only he had a quarter for every time he tried to reproduce the sound of those knuckles on the door with dice and a plank of wood. He'd have a dollar and twenty-five cents, almost enough to get a bus out of Domino.

"Yugi, I know you're home. I can see through the keyhole."

Yugi quit daydreaming, ran to the door, and let Kaiba in. "Hello, Kaiba." Kaiba nodded at him.

Yugi shut the door behind them. Kaiba went over to the couch and shuffled his deck. Yugi joined him with his own. They dueled, distracted only by the play's quickly approaching opening night.

"You think we'll get a big crowd?" Yugi drew a card and played it face down.

"Of course. People love holographic light shows." Kaiba's tone brimmed with confidence. "Duke wouldn't know a good show if it was playing in his mirror." He sent a monster card into battle. "Ha! I got this."

"Not so fast, Kaiba," Yugi said. "You've triggered my trap card."

Kaiba sent a few cards to the graveyard. "Lost again."

"Playing you gets harder each time," Yugi said, reshuffling.

"What was that?" Kaiba looked up.

"I said, it gets harder each time," Yugi repeated. "Playing you, that is. I mean, good game."

Kaiba grinned slyly. "Dueling you actually makes me feel good about myself, now."

Yugi smiled. "I'm glad."

"How about I return the favor?" Kaiba's grin was not of the puppy-killing sort, Yugi could tell. And the wild look in his eyes was nothing like the one from the last time he suggested that.

Yugi reclined on the couch, feeling more than comfortable. He returned Kaiba's half grin. "What did you have in mind?"

In the apartment below, Tristan ran out of the bedroom, recharged and raring to go. "I got my deck, I got my mojo back, and I got a revolution to start! It's time to duel!"

A pair of dragon-print boxers fell through the hole and landed on Tristan's head. "What the…" He looked up at the ceiling. "You doing something up there, Yugi?"

"Oh, YES!" A guitar riff backed Kaiba's shout.

Tristan's eyes bugged out. "Okay... I'm just gonna go for a while." He headed out the door.

He was really looking forward to the weekend rehearsals.

-O-o-O-o-O-

I'm going to wrap this up in one more chapter.


	12. Opening Night

I'm breaking this up into two chapters. It works better that way.

(1) To the tune of "Cooking by the Book" from Lazytown.

(2) To the tune of "Swagger Jagger" by Cher Lloyd.

-O-o-O-o-O-

There once lived a man who declared, "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

"Blast you, Murphy," Bakura swore under his breath amidst the flurry of activity that was opening night. The gaggles of actors and actresses running to and fro in their blue and white outfits made the whole backstage area look like an ancient Egyptian themed high school pep rally.

Kaiba was alternately shouting directions to everyone and running off to puke. Apparently, the Kaiba brothers had lunch at Nacho Hell that day. Mokuba and Noah were fine, but Kaiba seemed to have drawn the short straw. Or burrito, in which case "short" meant, "not properly cooked."

Yami, who hadn't gotten much sleep the night before (stage fright, who would've thought?), was nodding off at the drop of a hat. Not even mainlining coffee could help him.

Yugi was writing the one line he always forgot at the top of his wrist. There was no way the audience would see it, and he could always pull his bracelet over it. He just hoped he didn't sweat and smear it all over Kaiba's face when they had their big scene together.

Joey was hacking and coughing into a tissue. The bottom of the trash bin was covered with blood stained tissues.

"Use an understudy," Serenity pleaded. "It'll only be for tonight."

Joey wiped the blood off his mouth. "I can't. Dis is just somethin' I gotta do."

Outside, in the adjacent alley, Tristan peered around a dumpster at the audience entering the theater. He couldn't simply walk into the place, but he didn't see any way he could sneak in without getting caught. The back doors would definitely be locked, maybe even guarded. His deck was safely tucked into his pocket, along with a can of Mace.

"Uh-oh," he thought when he saw Duke and Noah walk toward the front steps. He ducked behind the dumpster and flattened himself against the wall.

The piles of cardboard, Styrofoam, and plastic bottles rattled inside the dumpster. Then Rex Raptor poked his head out of the mess and glared at Tristan. "Hey, get your own dumpster!"

Tristan stared up at him. "I don't even want anything from in there."

"Oh." Rex turned to resume dumpster diving, but paused. "What are you doing out here, anyway? Don't you work for that dice guy now?"

Tristan shook his head. "Just working on his play."

"Hmph. Traitor." Rex dove back into the dumpster.

Tristan never thought he'd get told off by Rex Raptor. Further, he never thought it would actually sting.

Unfortunately, while he contemplated this, he didn't notice the green-haired Kaiba brother looming over him. "Why are you here?"

"Crap," Tristan thought.

"Do you have a death wish? Duke's going to see you!" Noah warned.

Tristan looked back toward the entrance. Duke was nowhere to be found, but even if he was, what could he possibly do to Tristan now? "Then let him."

Noah's mouth hung open for a few seconds before he explained, "You must really not understand what's at stake here. He's literally going to kill you if he finds you here."

Tristan turned back to Noah. "Wait, what?"

"Did no one tell you? Duke told Bakura if he caught you here, he'd have you killed."

"Oh." Tristan tensed when he remembered he was in a secluded alley with Duke's assistant and no witnesses. "Holy shitting bricks."

A tinny midi song blared from in Noah's pants. He took his cell phone from his pocket and answered it. "Hello?"

"What are you doing back there? Is he here or not?" Tristan could hear Duke practically yelling into the phone over the theater's noise. He froze. This was it. He was a goner. He inconspicuously reached for the can of Mace. He realized it was empty.

Noah rolled his eyes. "Of course he's not here. I was going to the dressing rooms."

Tristan couldn't hear Duke's response before Noah hung up.

"He's going to get suspicious, so you need to hide," Noah said. His phone rang again. "Hello?"

It was Téa this time. "Don't use the bathrooms backstage. They're all out of order."

"Nice to know," Noah said, then hung up. He looked back at Tristan. "Hmm. I think I know where you could hide."

Back in the theater, Téa hung up the phone and walked over to Bakura. "The toilets are clogged." She shrugged and went to the storage closet to get a plunger. "Just one more thing to go wrong, huh?"

Bakura seemed to have the mini-meltdown that he'd been trying to suppress all night. "But what will we do if someone needs the toilet?"

"I got it…Grocery bags," Kaiba said weakly. He grabbed a paper supermarket bag from a pile and rushed off to vomit into it.

There was a knock on the back door. "What else could go wrong?" Bakura thought, going to answer it.

Standing on the steps outside the door was Noah and a man wearing green overalls, a matching cap, and a giant handlebar mustache. His cap seemed to not fit very well; there was a large, sharp protrusion at the front.

"I found you a plumber," Noah said. Tristan averted his eyes and hoped the huge mustache was enough of a disguise. For good measure, he held up his red and white spotted plunger.

Bakura stepped aside to let them in. Tristan made a beeline for the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Noah went to the house to find his seat.

In the safety of the bathroom, Tristan took off the itchy fake mustache. He looked through his deck as he sat with his ear to the door. He could hear a flurry of activity outside: Bakura, muttering nervously and pacing; Téa, reassuring him with one of her speeches; Mokuba, warning Kaiba about a Dramamine overdose; Yugi, reciting his lines. Even though everyone was on edge, it was all Tristan could do to keep himself from joining his friends in the wings.

He wondered if Joey was thinking about him, too. He also wondered why Joey never told him that Duke would kill him if he showed up on opening night. Tristan knew Joey could be forgetful, but something like this should be pretty easy to remember, considering its importance.

Maybe, after all these years, Tristan wasn't all that important. Maybe he just wasn't cut out to be the protagonist.

He looked over at the toilet. A giant clump of toilet paper was stuck in the hole. "Might as well get started."

-O-o-O-

Inside one of the many set properties, Joey crouched in silence. The last few rehearsals had been pretty rough. Tristan barely acknowledged his presence. That was to be expected, since even a simple "Hello" would be risking his life. But it still hurt. Especially since his homemade jockstrap was digging into his thighs.

"But ta win a duel, you have ta make some sacrifices. Even if it means pushin' people away ta keep 'em safe." Joey sighed.

Joey tensed his muscles. This was no time to throw a pity party. It was for Tristan's own good. He'd rather Tristan be alive and without him than be reunited only for him to get taken away again.

He went over his lines for the opening song. Though he could recite his whole part without prompting, he had the strangest feeling he was forgetting something.

Back in the bathroom, Tristan flushed the toilet. "Good thing I took those plumbing classes back in college."

He figured since he was here, he might as well watch the show. He made sure nobody was looking and crept into the hall behind the stage to watch from behind a podium.

They'd gone for a somewhat minimalist set-up. They built scaled-down, stylized sets of a pseudo-Egyptian city, the Pharaoh's palace, and the town square. All three settings were on the same stage, but the lighting would tell the audience which one to concentrate on. If a scene took place in one setting, a spotlight would shine only on that set. Additional lighting arrangements would allow the audience to see the actors if they moved from the set.

The players prepared to take the stage as Yami's voice boomed from the speaker system:

"Once upon a time, there was a great Pharaoh who decreed, 'Let there be card games.' But then he had a mysterious accident with an Egyptian laser and died. With his death came the end of card games. For in his place rose a new Pharaoh, and with him rose a new game."

Purple and green strobe lights lit up the sets as Mai and Kaiba, as High Priestess Peacock and High Priest Seahorse respectively, ran onto stage. Around them, giant Styrofoam tablets rose so gracefully, Tristan could almost ignore the strings. Mai was dressed as a cross between a Greek warrior and a mime in a pleated white kilt and blue and gold striped shirt. Her peacock feather headdress fluttered with every movement. Kaiba slightly raised his long blue and white empire-waist robes to keep from tripping. Yugi, dressed as the Dark Magician, twirled his staff like a baton and cart-wheeled across the stage as Mai started the verse:

_"Stacking up the tablets can summon any sprite._

_But with my caffeine habit, this game seems to take all night!"_

Kaiba continued the verse:

_"I'm the perfect medium, but even all my wit_

_Can never ease the tedium, this game is dull as shit!"_

The stage was flooded with pink light as Joey popped out of a giant die-cake. He wore a pink bob with gold headband and a blue vertically striped tunic with gold conical protrusions over his pectorals. The rest of the dancers skipped out, twirling neon dice on strings as Joey sang the chorus:

_"It's hard as heck ta build a proper deck_

_When your cards are limestone._

_All da heavy stacking's killed my back._

_Why don't I stick to dice bones?_

_Neva get a betta game to play,_

_Unless da king is dethroned._

_But if you do da rollin' by his scroll,_

_Dere'll be no heartache!"_ (1)

The beat suddenly sped up into a heavily-autotuned beeping noise. Blue neon lights lit up all over the stage as Bakura made his entrance. Strings of dice rattled against his blue tunic and he wore a gold and blue striped nemes headdress with a white and black die on the forehead. The crowd of dancers parted like the Sea of Reeds to let him through, then proceeded to breakdance and gyrate as he started to rap:

_"You shall not duel in the street. Dice is elite; better not cheat._

_You shall not duel, Capisce? Or I will break your face!_

_You shan't be opposing me, dethroning me; I'm a G-O-D._

_You can try disrobing me, I'm sexy all day!"_

Bakura joined the gyrating dancers.

_"Shut the front door. Shut the front door,_

_And throw out your deck_

_Bring me my whore."_

Joey skipped over to Bakura.

_"Bring me my whore._

_Let me lick your neck."_ Bakura dragged his tongue up the side of Joey's neck before singing the chorus:

_"Oh, my darling, oh, my darling,_

_My kawaii courty-san._

_Want your body; come here, shawty._

_I'm the Cullen to your Swan."_

He twirled around the stage as he rest of the players danced around him.

_"Magic fragger, magic fragger,_

_Now we're using dice to duel._

_Throw your cards out, play the new game,_

_And forget your dueling school."_

Kaiba picked up the outro:

_"High-rollers,_

_Can't touch my Enemy Controller._

_High rollers,_

_Lose when the players are trollers."_ (2)

The four chords of pop faded out as the players danced off the stage, leaving Joey as Joe-Hotep and Bakura as Pharaoh Akefia to start the next scene. From his hidden spot, Tristan could see the front row's bewildered expressions.

Tristan chuckled softly. If they thought this was weird, their minds would be blown by the riverdance-off between the penniless duelist and the Notorious Celtic Guardian.

"I'm the King of the Cards and the Lord of the Dance!" Yami, as the Duelist O'Cyrus, shouted as he stepped his way through the duel field. The audience seemed hypnotized by his feet.

"It could be White Lightning!" Priest Seahorse breathed. He swooned into the waiting arms of another priest, who carried him offstage.

O'Cyrus tipped his golden visor. "My trusty Millennium Visor."

The audience tittered nervously. Thankfully, O'Cyrus didn't break into a rap song.

Later, Tristan crossed his fingers during the scene where Joe-Hotep vainly tried to convince Pharaoh Akefia to end the misery in the city. Tristan hoped Duke wouldn't see this as foreshadowing.

The next scene featured Pharaoh Akefia asking Priest Seahorse to infuse the dice with more power. Priest Seahorse was arguing that the monsters don't want to live in the dice when a flash of white light from above interrupted him.

"Is that Ra, defying my will?" Pharaoh Akefia demanded.

"No, it's…" Priest Seahorse squinted at the rafters. "A silver disc."

The stage went dark and the two screamed.

Unearthly beeping and surgical tools jingling provided a beat. The audience could see nothing but several pairs of glowing white orbs.

When the lights came up again, the priest and the Pharaoh were lying in the palace courtyard.

"Why can I see through that wall?" Pharaoh Akefia asked.

"Why do I feel…different?" Priest Seahorse asked.

Further dialogue revealed that the Pharaoh now had X-Ray vision and the priest now had the equipment necessary to bear children. The scene ended with Pharaoh Akefia singing about his plan to sire magical heirs with his priest.

The Secret Song was cut from this part of the production.

The dueling and romantic scenes following the UFO subplot prompted some noises of amusement, but there was dead silence from the audience during the romantic musical scene between Priest Seahorse and the Dark Magician. The stage faded to black right after Priest Seahorse flung off his outer robes. The collective sigh of relief from the audience was deafening.

They couldn't relax for long, because in the next scene, Pharaoh Akefia used his X-Ray vision to foil Joe-Hotep's escape plans. He then discovered that Priest Seahorse was pregnant and he was not the father. The audience seemed half amused, half confused by the king's decision to sing, "Fricking baby isn't mine!" and dance angrily to late 90s pop while the priest fled.

The priest managed to get Joe-Hotep to an obscure inn and a semblance of normalcy returned. It quickly went out the window during the scene in which the Dark Magician had to come to terms with his impending fatherhood. The music in the resulting song sounded more suitable for a song about going out to dance than any kind of heavy topic.

Priestess Peacock, the only reasonable character, had recruited the Pharaoh's army for their revolution. They prepared for mutiny.

The next scene was the wedding scene. The Pharaoh would marry Joe-Hotep in the middle of the plaza so everyone, especially the revolutionaries, could witness his power. Unbeknownst to him, there would be several objections.

Tristan could hardly sit still. Currently, Pharaoh Akefia-Bakura was giving a speech about the superiority of dice games and the foolishness of the revolution. He stood in front of three doors, behind which the Dark Magician, Priest Seahorse, Joe-Hotep, and O'Cyrus would be hiding.

In the audience, Noah shifted nervously. Duke would be most displeased if he saw that the players were going to defy his new ending.

"Shouldn't you go to the bathroom right now?" Noah whispered to Duke.

Duke brushed him off. "We're almost at the best part—the part I wrote."

"But isn't it time for your hourly application of young hot women?" Noah pressed.

"All the hot women are on stage. I'd have to make do with a man," Duke responded.

Noah looked Duke dead in the eye. "I'll volunteer."

Duke stared at Noah, mortified. "Not you, too. What's next, Mokuba's going to serenade me after the curtain call?"

-O-o-O-

Backstage, the cast dealt with some technical difficulties.

In the dressing rooms, Joey hacked and coughed violently while Serenity searched her purse for the medicine vial. The blood from Joey's lungs could not be contained in one tissue. Serenity handed him five more so he wouldn't splatter blood on his white gown and veil. Then she opened the vial and tilted Joey's head back.

The problems continued in the hallway outside the dressing room. "He's out cold." Téa lightly slapped Yami on the cheek. "Where's his understudy?" She dragged Yami to a couch and propped him up on the couch's arm.

"I can go on." Tristan stood up from behind the podium.

Téa looked up, horrified. "You're not supposed to be here." She tried to drag him back to the bathroom, but he wouldn't budge. "What are you doing? You need to hide!"

"I'm done with hiding from the Duke." Tristan whipped off his plumber disguise. Fortunately, he was wearing pants under it.

On stage, Pharaoh Bakura commanded, "Show me what's behind door number one."

Door number one swung open. The Pharaoh's guards attempted to drag Dark Magician-Yugi out, but Yugi put his staff across the door. The guards found a way around this; Yugi was made to limbo out of the door.

"No! Not the limbo!" Yugi yelled as he was dragged out from under the staff.

Backstage, Téa and Tristan heard footsteps behind the dressing room door. "He's going to kill you if he finds you here!" Téa warned.

"I don't care." Tristan said. He turned to the door as it opened to reveal a veiled man in a white gown with gold conical shields on the pectorals.

"What's goin' on—Tristan?" The man lifted his veil.

"Joey." Tristan narrowed his eyes. "You've got some explaining to do."

The action continued onstage. "And what's behind door number two?" Pharaoh Bakura demanded.

Door number two opened. The guards seized Priest Seahorse-Kaiba and restrained his hands.

"Careful with that one. I have plans for him." Pharaoh Bakura punctuated his command with a lecherous grin.

Priest Seahorse-Kaiba gritted his teeth. "Over my dead body!"

Pharaoh Bakura shrugged. "I'm not picky." The audience groaned.

Backstage, Tristan confronted Joey. "How hard is it to tell me someone's trying to kill me?"

"I seriously thought I had. I swear I did," Joey pleaded. He looked back toward the stage. Bakura and Kaiba were finishing their verbal slap fest. "I need ta get back out dere. We can talk about it after da show."

Joey went back out, with Tristan following. "I said, we'll talk later."

"Yami's asleep. I'm filling in," Tristan replied curtly.

"Oh. Wait, what?"

Joey had no time to react properly. Bakura shouted, "What's behind door number three?" The door in front of Joey and Tristan swung open and they were in full view of the audience.

Bakura and Kaiba glanced at each other. Neither seemed prepared for this. Yugi slid his eyes over to the audience to check Duke's reaction, but it was too dark in the house.

Suddenly, Pharaoh Bakura started to laugh. "You think you can fool me with a new haircut and dye job? I see right through you, O'Cyrus. Your attempts are futile."

Joey and Tristan stumbled onto the stage. They couldn't see the audience very well, but they were certain the Duke was stewing in his seat.

"You poor people and your 'love conquers all' attitudes, and your dueling with limestone tablets. When will you realize that heel bones are what makes the world go round and love is just a silly game?" Bakura went on.

"Yeah, well. I'm not sure how strong our love was in the first place," Tristan said. "I thought it was in attack mode, but it's more like 'stab my back' mode."

"Or 'talentless hack' mode," Duke whispered to Noah. "What the hell is this? I didn't write this crap, and Tristan is so dead when this is over."

Noah pretended not to hear him and continued to watch the stage.

"But…I was just tryin' ta protect ya," Joey continued. "You could always duel your way out. Or whateva you do in dat place."

"You know what, forget this. I'm out." Tristan walked to the edge of the stage. "Clearly, I'm not revolutionary material." He jumped off and started walking up the aisle.

The players on stage racked their brains to ad-lib. Yugi wrenched himself away from the guard and ran to the edge of the stage. His cue was never going to come with this new plot twist, but his big line was the one thing that could keep Tristan from walking out on everyone. He didn't even need to glance down at his wrist before yelling after Tristan:

"I used to be a cynic, but then I took cupid's arrow to the heart."

Tristan stopped. Yugi jumped off the stage and ran to him. "He thinks you're just going to the Shadow Realm, not getting killed for real. He forgot to tell you, but he figured you were strong enough to duel your way out. If not, we'd come and help you."

Tristan mulled it over. "Really?"

"Of course. Because we're your friends. And so is Joey," Yugi said.

Tristan was quiet as Yugi climbed back onto the stage. There was complete silence in the house and onstage as Tristan stood in the aisle and examined the floor and Yugi's words.

-O-o-O-o-O-


	13. The Heart of the Cards will go on

This will be the last chapter (I ran out of movie). I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

(1) To the tune of "Always" by Erasure.

(2) To the tune of "We didn't start the fire" by Billy Joel.

(3) To the tune of "American Pie" by Don McLean.

-O-o-O-o-O-

However, all was not quiet backstage. If Tristan had looked up during Yugi's explanation, he would have noticed that the seat next to Noah was empty.

Duke marched into the empty dressing room like he owned the place, and, technically, he did. "Where are the traitors?" He spun around, searching for Téa and Serenity, but they had gone into the hallway to watch and prepare for the finale.

"Looking for someone?" a voice drifted down from the staircase.

Duke turned to the stairs. Yami perched at the top of the railing and leered down at Duke. It might have been a trick of the light, but his usually purple eyes were now blood red.

"Not you." Duke turned to continue his search.

Yami slid down the railing and clamped his hands on Duke's shoulders. "Want to play a game?"

Duke shoved him away. "Suck my dice, Pharaoh."

Yami gasped. "How dare you!"

Duke pimp slapped Yami. Whatever shadow game Yami had planned was eschewed in favor of a knock down, drag out fight.

On stage, Bakura turned to Joey. "Well, you're mine now. Time to say your vows."

Joey stared down the aisle at Tristan's back. He turned and walked away from Bakura. He walked to the edge of the stage and began to sing a cappella:

_"I was all right, home free._

_My moves were chosen._

_Den you alight, near me,_

_Today, I was frozen."_

Tristan turned around. Did this mean what he thought it meant?

Joey continued to sing:

_"Trick so old, but I_

_Fell for it all da same."_

The melisma brought a short fit of breathlessness, but he quickly regained his composure and continued:

_"You owned all my life_

_Points, but dere's no shame."_

Joey's hidden holographic sensors bathed him in a rainbow aura. Tristan ran to the edge of the stage and burst into the chorus:

_"All game, I wanna kiss your neck_

_And shuffle your whole deck,_

_And play that card again, card again, oh joy!_

_All game, I wanna hold your hand._

_Rolling bones be damned._

_Just play that card again, card again, oh joy!"_

The rest of the players came out for the unicorn dance sequence. The complete synthesized orchestra kicked in as Joey and Tristan continued to sing.

_"Be you bold, or shy_

_You're a hero, okay!_

_Just own the game_

_Like it's your birthday!"_

Holographic sparks shot from the conical shields on Joey's chest. Rainbow strobe lights flooded the stage as the players, including the guards, sang and danced to the chorus.

_"All game, I'm gonna win the duel._

_And even if I lose,_

_I'll sing a melody, melody, oh joy!_

_All game, I wanna play with you,_

_And even when it's through,_

_I've got the heart of cards, heart of cards, oh joy!" _(1)

Fake limestone tablets went up all over the stage. Pharaoh Bakura threw his hands up in defeat as the music faded out.

"You card-slinging traitors!"

The music stopped abruptly. Everyone turned to see Duke, standing at the edge of the stage. He seemed to be pointing at center stage, but his other four fingers were in an odd, not quite closed position. His hair looked like he took a White Lightning attack full on and he had a couple of bruises, but this didn't seem to bother him. He crept onto the stage as everyone put their hands up and edged away from him.

"Is that what I think it is?" Tristan muttered to Joey.

Joey nodded, horrified. "An invisible gun."

"That's right, my kawaii courty-san." Duke's voice was disturbingly calm. "Take back the ending, or I'll blow your freaking souls out with my Dark Energy bullets."

Yami ran onto the stage. He was just as unkempt as Duke. "Pay no attention to him; he's firing blanks."

Duke aimed the invisible gun at Yami and fired. There was a flash and a bang, but nothing came out.

"This can't be!" Duke fired a few more times. Still no bullets.

In the house, Noah kicked his briefcase under his seat. The Dark Energy bullets rattled softly in their case, but thankfully none of the other spectators heard.

The players gathered onstage. Yami and Bakura pushed Duke into a chair while the players formed a circle around them. To a 4/4 beat, half the players chanted, "Dueling has not expired." The other half chanted, "Ooga chaka, ooga chaka."

Duke glanced around. "This wasn't in the script."

Yugi twirled his Dark Magician staff like a baton and chanted, "I flip my cards back and forth! I flip my cards back and forth!"

"No, seriously, what the hell is going on?" Duke was about to get up when Yami and Bakura loomed over him.

"You can't fight it," Yami started.

"So why even try?" Bakura continued.

"It's already ignited," Yami said.

"Let the sparks fly!" Bakura finished.

The music started with a burst as everyone stopped chanting and Bakura started to sing:

_"Dueling has not expired._

_Don't you try to smite me; your rich ass can bite me._

_Frankly, we're getting tired._

_Silence isn't golden, so we're all revolting."_

Joey broke from the circle and sang:

_"Duelist Kingdom, Battle City, Grand Prix, we're sittin' pretty_

_'Til da Dice Man cut up all of our cards._

_Dominos fell down; dat was just da first round._

_After six or seven, it was pretty damn hard."_

The music swelled as Kaiba sang:

_"Jeopardy's a way of life, roll a die, face your strife._

_Play a set, pay your debts, take a chance and place your bets."_

Yugi picked up the last lines:

_"Life is now a checkerboard, almost fell upon my sword_

_Throw your cards all on the floor; I declare a gaming war!"_

Everyone joined in for the chorus.

_"Dueling has not expired._

_It'll keep persisting while you keep resisting._

_Decks and hearts on fire._

_You can try and douse it, might as well espouse it._

_Dueling has not expired._

_Our decks are burning, but the disks are turning._

_Dice games are not required._

_It's a different name, but it's the same game."_ (2)

The music faded out as the curtain dropped.

The audience sat in a shocked silence for a few seconds. Noah looked around, waiting for a mob to form and start throwing things at the stage.

"What did I just watch?" one spectator asked.

"I don't know," another answered.

Noah listened to the crowd's whispers of disbelief and bafflement. He stood up, and started to clap slowly.

"The symbolism…it's beautiful!" he feigned tears. "A perfect metaphor for life under the new system!"

The other audience members looked confused at first then began to applaud.

"If the green-haired hipster says it's art, it must be art!" one spectator cheered.

"True art is nonsensical!" another raved.

"I like it! I have no taste, but I like it!" a third said.

"Hey, they like it!" Clearly, Joey had only heard the first part of that comment.

"We did good," Tristan agreed.

While they peered out at the audience, Duke turned to march over to them. Before he could take two steps, Yami grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the dressing room.

Duke found himself in another chair. This time, he was strapped in with thick black ropes. Yugi, Téa, and Kaiba watched the scene from the hallway.

"I'm not even into bondage," Duke said, struggling to break free.

"This is no love game," Yami said. "But in your case, it might be."

A mirror dropped down in front of Duke. Yami snapped his fingers and Duke's eyeliner became three-dimensional. The black lines clamped themselves onto Duke's eyelids and held them open.

"I'm going easy on you in this penalty game. You love looking at your reflection, don't you?" Yami asked. "Even you can't resist your own charms. But I've been playing some games of my own, lately. One of them is called, 'Follow the Gaze.'"

"How do you play that?" Duke struggled, in vain, to close his eyes.

"I look at a person's eyes, then estimate their line of sight. Judging by their actions, I determine whether I've won or lost." Yami half-smiled, looking toward the door. "Joey and Tristan often look at each other or whatever food item happens to be around. Téa's line tends to lead to the other dancers when she's not in a number. As for Yugi…" Yami chuckled softly. "He's been looking a lot at the lower back of Kaiba's trench coat."

Duke rolled his eyes as much as possible.

"I'm getting good at it. I can even figure out your line of sight, and I've noticed it never ends above your reflection's nose."

As soon as Yami finished speaking, Duke's eyes were drawn to his reflection's eyes like a magnet. He tried to look away, but the eyeliner clamps seemed to have drilled into his eyeballs and fixed them in place.

"Don't you want to admire yourself properly? How can you do that if you can't look into your own eyes?" Yami continued. "Isn't your soul as pretty as your face?"

Duke's eyes glazed over. He appeared to be hypnotized.

"Tell me. What do you see?" Yami asked. "Do you see the darkness in your soul?"

"No," Duke whispered. "I see…me."

"And what are you?"

Duke leaned forward until his nose was almost against the glass. "I'm beautiful."

Yami's face fell. "What?"

"Since the fall of dueling, I never looked into my own eyes. I was always afraid of what I'd find if I stared too long. But now…" Duke sounded on the verge of tears. "Instead of a vile pit of card game hatred, I see the sexiness of a thousand sun gods." He sniffed. "It's beautiful, man."

Yami's mind went blank. In all his years of playing shadow games, he'd never seen this before. Was this seriously happening? He wasn't supposed to lose at these things. That was Kaiba's department!

"But maybe I can work with this," Yami thought aloud. "Maybe he'll stare at his own reflection for all of eternity. Or, maybe he'll try to romance his own reflection and smother himself with the mirror. Or maybe he'll fall into it—just like Narcissus!"

Duke tore his eyes away from the mirror and sighed. "Even I can't bask in my own glory forever."

"Couldn't you at least try?" Yami asked in a small voice.

"How about this—Mind Crush!" Yugi thrust his hand at Duke.

Duke's three-dimensional eyeliner wilted and fell to the floor. Duke blinked rapidly, but otherwise appeared to be unaffected.

"Step aside, boys, and let a pro show you how it's done." Téa marched over to Duke. "Duke, let me tell you about friendship."

Duke smirked. "Be my guest."

After about ten minutes of lecturing, Téa started to run out of words. "I think I'm going to need some back-up."

Kaiba strode over to Duke, bent over so he was at eye level with Duke, and smiled.

"No. No! Anything but that!" Duke cried as Kaiba's smile widened. "Bring back the mirror! I want to look into my eyes again! Let me play the penalty game!" Dear god, Kaiba's teeth were going to blind him.

Noah walked past the door. "What's going on in here?"

Kaiba turned to him with the smile, giving Duke an all too short reprieve.

"You are so fired when I get out of here!" Duke yelled at him.

"Was going to mutiny anyway. Deuces." Noah walked off again.

Kaiba turned his smile back on Duke, who withered in his seat.

"I surrender," Duke muttered then passed out. Kaiba stopped smiling.

"You didn't kill him, did you?" Téa asked.

"He'll be out for a while." Kaiba massaged his stiff facial muscles.

Unfortunately, the combined effects of Kaiba's close range smile attack and tuberculosis were too much for another cast member.

Joey coughed violently and crumpled to the floor. Tristan rushed to his aid.

"Joey? Joey? What's wrong?"

Joey continued to cough as Tristan tried to help him walk to the couch in the hallway. Blood splattered on Joey's white gown and Tristan's hands. Joey collapsed onto the couch and Tristan ran to the door.

"Somebody get some help!" Tristan screamed. Téa looked up, saw Joey on the couch, and ran to the phone.

Tristan ran back to the couch and knelt next to Joey. "It's gonna be all right, buddy. We're gonna call the hospital and they'll figure out what's wrong."

Joey smiled sadly and shook his head. "It's da end o' da line for me, Tristan."

"Téa's calling them right now. They have stronger medicine," Tristan insisted.

"I got da TB. It's too late." Joey coughed again, then wiped the blood away with his hand.

"No. No. This can't be happening. Not like this." Tristan ran his hands over his hair and tried to compose himself. He clamped his shaking hands down on Joey's shoulders, took a breath, and channeled Téa.

"Listen, Joey. You're gonna get over this. You're gonna live and make lots of babies. Preferably not with Kaiba, and not vampires." Joey chuckled weakly at that line; Tristan tried to smile. "And you're gonna watch them grow up, watch them go off to a fancy school for dueling, and watch them zoom away on their motorcycles, trailing their crazy hair behind them. You're gonna die an old man, safe and warm in your bed. Again, preferably not next to Kaiba, and not in a dog suit." Tristan wiped the corners of his eyes. "But you're not gonna die here, not like this."

Joey eyes watered, but he was determined to take his fate like a man. "I can't feel my butt."

Tristan took a breath and continued, "Writing this play and fighting this duel were the best things to happen to me. They got me into your crazy world of Brooklyn Lust and musical card games. They've made my deck stronger. They've made my voice stronger, thus making me stronger. I can't thank you enough for that." Tristan bit down on his lip. "I don't know how I'll go on without you."

Joey tilted his head up to look Tristan in the eye. "Tristan, Yugi and da othas need you. I was da face of da revolution, but you're da heart. You gotta go on." Joey coughed again, but forced a smile. "I promise I won't come back and haunt ya if dis play bombs. But you gotta promise me that you'll neva let go."

Tristan clasped Joey's hand in both of his. "I'll never let go, Joe. I'll never let go."

Joey let his head fall back. "I just died in your arms tonight."

Tristan figured Joey wouldn't want him to cry. So Tristan tried hard not to.

-O-o-O-

In the streets, the duelists smoked

With crack pipes and with joints.

But there was no buzz in Tristan's mind,

For Joey had zero life points.

The funeral was shortly after opening night. All the duelists attended.

Yugi placed a "Premature Burial" card on Joey's grave. "We'll miss you, Joey."

Serenity cried while Mokuba comforted her. Mai saluted Joey's grave. Kaiba didn't make a single smartass remark that day. Even Rex, Weevil, and Bandit Keith were silent.

The next day, it was back to business. Surprisingly, the play did okay. Sort of.

"An exercise in absurdism," read the sole review in the Domino News (the special cardboard edition), "Awesome Flotsam is meant to mirror the frustration and confusion felt during and after the fall of dueling. Though it reads like an odd fanfiction, it is the main vehicle for the dueling revolution. And what better way to stick it to the man than to pull this out of the air?"

The audience didn't care; they kept coming to the shows. Nobody cared enough to check the handwriting on the submission, or compare the writing style with the script of Awesome Flotsam.

"No publicity is bad publicity," Tristan thought as he read the paper. "They'll never suspect a thing." Fortunately for him and the rest of the crew, more positive reviews followed.

Duke was very dissatisfied with the shows and the revolution, once he got over Kaiba's smile attack. He stormed into the Black Dragon Theater and because his invisible gun was missing, he had no choice but to curse up a blue streak. Among the swears were threats to banish Tristan from Domino, take away everyone's screen time, and force them to open a high school that taught children how to sing while playing dice games.

When Duke finished making his demands, Kaiba jumped off the stage and casually strolled up to him. He grabbed Duke's hand and slapped a wad of cash in it. It was the exact price of the Black Dragon Theater.

"I'm back, bitch." Kaiba's voice practically lilted. Duke took the money and left in a huff.

Later that day, Noah cleaned out his desk at the Duke's manor. On the waist-high shelf behind him was the deed to the Black Dragon Theater. No lights flashed on the surveillance cameras.

Noah lifted his cardboard box onto the chair in front of the shelf. As he turned back to his desk, he let the corner of his jacket brush against the deed, knocking the document into the box. He turned around with an armful of books and hastily piled them on top of the deed.

Yami was still corporeal, and likely would remain so until Duke was ousted. Judging by the way the dice regime was beginning to crack under their pressure, this would happen soon.

Months later, Tristan sat in front of his typewriter, trying to write the sequel. He'd start on a plot, only to scrap it within two pages. Or he'd start a character sketch, only to realize he knew absolutely nothing about the character's motives and back-story. Or worse, he'd write some jokes, hoping to use them later. But when he reread them, it was clear they were only funny in his head. Most of the time, the writing wasn't even bad; it just wasn't as compelling as the first play—and sometimes he questioned the quality of that.

After a few days, he had enough rejected pages to wallpaper his apartment. At least they provided insulation from the cold.

One day, Tristan sat up in bed and gazed across the alley. Through the adjacent building's window, he saw Serenity let Mokuba in. Mokuba put his keytar on the coffee table and took out some sheets of paper. Serenity read along while Mokuba played.

Above him, he could hear Yugi and Yami walking into their living room. One of them walked to the door and opened it, and he could hear Téa's greeting.

Kaiba was probably alone in his apartment, but he'd be in Yugi's later. Bakura, Noah, and Mai were most likely at the nearby theater.

"The players are here," Tristan thought. "Except for one."

Tristan picked up his makeshift "Monster Reborn" card and went onto the fire escape. He flicked the card against the windowsill while he tried to think of a new dueling-based concept. He could have sworn he heard a Brooklyn-accented voice sing, "Don't cry for me, Duelist Kingdom."

Bandit Keith's song from the nearby bar broke his concentration:

_"Oh, please, please, end the dice game disease._

_Give 'em trouble, make it double, bring 'em down to their knees._

_And we're drunk on rye and messed up on weed,_

_Singing, this'll be the death of me,_

_This'll be the death of me…"_ (3)

Tristan sat back down. He was going to write the story of the Dark Magician and Priest Seahorse's child, the new Pharaoh. Perhaps he'd attend a school and learn to control magical limestone tablets.

That would inspire the rise of the New Domino, right?

-O-o-O-o-O-


	14. Decks Fall, Scenes Get Deleted

These are some scenes that I wrote that got cut from the original (because there were just too many subplots and I didn't want to distract from the main ones). I'm adding them as an extra, sort of. They don't include any songs, just character interaction and plot.

You could ignore them, if you want.

-O-o-O-o-O-

**Marik Used to Be in this Story**

Later that day at rehearsal, Marik was laughing at the fact that Joey's wig was on crooked when Bakura descended from the balcony. "Marik, there's a phone call for you upstairs."

Marik looked at Bakura, confused. "On the office phone?"

"It's your sister."

Marik wasted no time getting up the stairs. What could Ishizu want after all these years?

He picked up the receiver, noting its heaviness compared to the old (or new, if it were before the fall) phones. "This thing ought to be a lethal weapon," he thought, feeling the cold metal against his face. "Hello?" he whispered into the phone.

"Hello, Marik."

Her voice made him feel like a little kid. "Hey, sis."

"What have you been up to lately?"

Marik hoped he didn't hesitate too long. "Not much."

"Hmm. You don't sound very happy." Ishizu's voice held a hint of concern. "Did you go back to Domino to do 'not much'?"

"I'm working with Yugi and his friends."

A pause. "Are you still dueling?"

"Well, no, but we're doing this new thing where we do performance art about it."

Another pause. "Marik, come back to Egypt." The hint became a full-blown spoiler.

"Why? I'm doing perfectly fine over here."

"If we're talking about the same Domino city, then, no, you are not doing fine. That place is a wasteland. It's been that way since the fall of dueling." She let out a sharp breath. "At least over here, we still give the game the respect it deserves."

"It'll be that way here, too, just wait. We're doing a whole play on it." Marik could feel the excitement rising in his face. "You'd love it. It's going to start a whole revolution. We're going to bring dueling back."

Silence on the other end. "Are you still there?" Marik asked.

"I'm here, but…"

"You don't think we can do it, do you?"

"I didn't say that."

"You just admitted dueling didn't get the respect it deserved over here, and you want us to give up on it. Don't you think we could restore its respect over here?"

Ishizu sighed. "If people abandoned dueling at the drop of a hat for some plastic cubes, what makes you think they'll even try to understand? Clearly, they think it's just another trendy game. Why do you think they'll try to revive something they think is 'so last year'?"

"But this new play we're doing is sort of educational, on top of entertaining. It'll change how everyone thinks about dueling, we're all sure of it."

"You shouldn't depend on one play to do that."

"We're not going to do just one play. We'll think of something else to do after the play stops running."

"You're completely sure you want to continue?"

"Of course."

"Very well. But you can always come home, whenever you like."

"Sure."

Bakura was waiting at the top of the stairs. "Was everything okay over there?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"Everything's going to be all right," Marik answered, looking over the balcony's railing. Then he ran downstairs to grab some popcorn and watch Mai and Kaiba attempt the first number without kicking each other.

"Attempt" being the key word.

-O-o-O-

**The Plight of the Beta Couple**

Bakura, Kaiba, and Mokuba gathered in the upstairs office of the Black Dragon Theater. They stood around the desk, staring at a stapled pamphlet with a pair of dice on the cover. Though it was as dry as the humor on its pages, it smelled like Duke had soaked it in his signature scent.

"So this is it," Mokuba said. "The new ending."

"Let's see the damage," Bakura sighed. He picked it up.

The scent was ten times worse; those few inches made all the difference. Bakura and Mokuba recoiled and fanned the air. Kaiba flung himself in front of the trash bin next to the desk and violently vomited into it.

Bakura held the script at arm's length. "Bloody hell, that cologne is strong."

"He's been doing that a lot. He'll be fine after a few minutes." Mokuba covered his nose with his shirt. "But I'd scrub my hands with steel wool and bleach if I were you."

"How are we supposed to read this? There's no gas mask strong enough, and I don't think we could afford them, anyway." Bakura tossed the pamphlet back on the desk. "I wonder if Mai has something that could neutralize the smell."

Kaiba finished vomiting and wiped his mouth. He started to get up, then dropped to his knees to dry heave over the trash bin.

"Are you all right over there?" Bakura asked. Mokuba put a tray over the pamphlet to block the smell.

"I'm just great." Kaiba ripped open a package of Dramamine and popped two. He sat back against the desk, then snatched the package back up and took two more pills.

"You're eating those like they're Skittles," Bakura said incredulously. He looked back at the covered pamphlet. "I really must talk to Duke about his cologne."

"You just rest, Seto. We'll look at the ending," Mokuba said.

Bakura propped up the tray to create a shield against the stench for Kaiba. With their fingers clamped firmly over their noses, he and Mokuba read over the new ending to Awesome Flotsam.

"This completely cuts out the big ending number, as well as the secret song," Mokuba noted with chagrin.

"Maybe you can just change the words so they're about dice games," Bakura suggested. "Why isn't Tristan here?"

"We can't show him this. It'd destroy him. Plus, I think Duke would kill him if he found out," Mokuba said.

"Bakura."

Both Bakura and Mokuba looked up from the script. Kaiba was sitting very still on the floor by the trash bin. He didn't look back at them, but down at his stomach.

"Can Noah be the understudy for the role of Priest Seahorse?" Kaiba asked quietly.

Bakura and Mokuba froze and exchanged surprised glances. Kaiba never asked for an understudy. "I suppose. Why do you ask?"

Kaiba finally looked up. "Because by the second month of the show, I'll be too far along to do the more complicated numbers."

Bakura gaped. Mokuba just stared. "You're…you're what?" Bakura was barely aware of the words passing his lips.

Kaiba looked out of the window at the pediment. "Hmm. The tin roof's rusted."

"What…how…this isn't the time to discuss repairs!" Bakura sputtered. "You're pregnant?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mokuba went over to Kaiba.

"I didn't know until today," Kaiba answered.

"How did you even get pregnant?" Bakura was beside himself. "You're a man!"

Kaiba sighed exasperatedly. "Yes. I'm a man. I'm a man who's had his plumbing rearranged by aliens so he has not only a penis, but a uterus, egg sacs, birth canal, and his very own vaginal opening." Kaiba snickered. "The aliens were even kind enough to fix my pelvic hole and make the opening muscles extra strong. Wasn't that considerate."

"How far along are you?" Mokuba asked. Bakura grabbed a paper bag and began to breathe hysterically into it. It was only a matter of time before the aliens came for him, too.

"It just moved, so it's probably not coming out for another four months." Kaiba looked back down at his stomach. "An abortion's too risky at this stage."

Bakura crumpled the bag. "What did I tell you about using proper protection?"

"I used a condom, okay?" Kaiba snapped. "I couldn't afford health care, so I couldn't get the pill or the morning after pill. The only doctor I could afford didn't catch it in time." Kaiba sighed, frustrated. "And I guess the condom didn't catch it either." He sat back on his heels.

Mokuba and Bakura exchanged a look. Bakura left the room muttering, "Holy life imitating art, Batman."

Mokuba closed the door behind him and sat down next to Kaiba. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Mokuba asked, "Do you know who the father is?"

Kaiba wouldn't look at him.

Mokuba turned his whole body to face his brother. "It's not…one of the customers, is it? Like Keith?"

Kaiba shook his head. "It's worse. It's Yugi."

Mokuba stared. "Are you going to tell him?"

"He's going to notice after a certain point." Kaiba folded his arms. It only drew Mokuba's attention to the slight bump in Kaiba's abdomen.

"You can't not tell him and wait until he has to notice," Mokuba said. "You can't spring this on him."

"Yugi doesn't need to be involved. I can handle this on my own." Kaiba pulled the trash bin closer in case he needed it again.

"But don't you want his help?"

"No." Kaiba grabbed the trash bin and vomited into it again. "I can't keep relying on Yugi to save my life. I'm not some weakling." He wiped his mouth. "I can take care of myself and I can take care of this child."

Mokuba exhaled through his teeth. "Well, I think you're being foolish."

Kaiba gaped at the challenge. His ego deflated rapidly.

"Think about the child," Mokuba continued. "You don't think he'd benefit from having the King of freaking Games as a father?"

Kaiba shut his mouth. "Could be a girl," he muttered.

"That's irrelevant. You said it yourself: Yugi is a prodigy and a worthy opponent. He's the only one who can rival you in intelligence. Don't you want your offspring to have the best possible upbringing?"

Kaiba stared ahead, thinking. He wasn't clenching his jaw, so Mokuba went on.

"I'm not saying you need Yugi or that you can't do it alone. But you don't want to live with the fact that you had a golden opportunity and you passed it up. You want to give that kid the best chance in life and be proud of the great job you did," Mokuba concluded.

Kaiba looked out the window again. "Will Yugi even want me?"

"You won't know if you don't ask."

Kaiba pushed the trash bin away. "It might not even survive. I'm healthy enough, but I haven't been that careful."

"You should still tell Yugi. If this kid is anything like you, it has a good chance of living." Mokuba put his hands on Kaiba's shoulders. "Even if it doesn't survive, both of you need to prepare for it. You both need to be ready for either outcome."

Kaiba stared straight ahead. "I'm not going to marry him or anything. I'm just going to try to make this work. Whatever it takes." He stood up and went to the desk, being careful to only breathe through his mouth. "Let me see how Duke's butchered the ending."

Mokuba stood up. "I'll get Bakura."

He'd just shut the door behind him when it hit him. All those nights Yugi slept over, his brother's current condition…

Yugi and Seto were likely having sex just a few feet away from him.

Mokuba stopped to ponder that, then shrugged and went about his business.

-O-

While the rest of the players took their bows on stage, Kaiba was in the bathroom with his head in the toilet. The Dramamine's effects had long since worn off and he'd barely made it to the bathroom in time.

"He's just a fetus and he's already kicking my ass." Kaiba wiped his mouth with toilet paper. "He's definitely Yugi's. Or he'll take after me."

When he was sure he was finished, he opened the door. Yugi was waiting outside, on the couch.

Kaiba clutched the doorknob. How long had Yugi been out here?

Yugi looked up, concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Kaiba adjusted his priest robes.

"Because for the past few weeks, you've been puking everywhere," Yugi said, matter-of-factly. "Is it Yami's Abysmalinth? He can kind of give you a contact hangover sometimes."

"No." Kaiba felt his knees start to buckle. He dragged himself over to the couch and plunked himself down on the opposite end.

Yugi watched the players through the hall doorway. "Your acting was great."

Kaiba put his head on the couch's arm. "Thanks."

"Especially during the Riverdance duel." Yugi chuckled. "Never thought I'd see you swoon. I was worried for a second there."

Yugi turned to face Kaiba, when he didn't get an answer. Kaiba was curled up at the end of the couch, leaning heavily on the arm. His normally steady posture was limp. He looked even more uncomfortable than the night he tried to pay Yugi back for the cards. From the look on his face, Yugi could tell that Kaiba was miserable.

"You weren't faking, were you?" he said softly. He slid over to check Kaiba's pulse. Still going strong.

Kaiba gave a weak laugh. "I'm a better duelist than actor."

Yugi removed his Dark Magician cape and hat. "I gotta get you to a doctor." He reached down to help Kaiba up, but Kaiba resisted. "Look, I'm sure Noah would drive us there."

"That's not necessary," Kaiba muttered.

"How can you say that? You look like death!" Yugi said. "And I don't think this is courtesy of Nacho Hell."

Kaiba rolled his half open eyes. "That's because it isn't."

"Then what is it?"

Kaiba grabbed Yugi's hand and pressed it against the slight bump in his priest robes. Yugi stared at Kaiba, confused, until he felt the tiny kick.

Yugi's eyes widened as he took his hand away. "Holy shit on a hospital bed."

Kaiba sighed exasperatedly. "Don't swear in front of our child, Yugi."

Yugi paced in front of the couch. "I don't even know what to say. I guess we could…" He looked at Kaiba. "How far along are you?"

"Four or five months."

"Damn." Yugi made sure he only mouthed the word. "Well, do you want me to stay around and help, or…"

Kaiba stared ahead. "Mokuba thinks it would be best."

"But do you want me around?" Yugi pressed.

Kaiba looked past Yugi at the dueling poster on the wall. "That's up to you. The kid's half yours, anyway."

Yugi quit pacing and faced Kaiba. "Wait, are you implying that we should get married?"

Kaiba finally made eye contact. "Yugi, please."

"Cut the bull, Kaiba. This isn't your style," Yugi said. "You got altered by aliens and I knocked you up. Do you want to get married, or do you not?"

Kaiba was silent for a few minutes. "I don't like getting close to people outside my family." He sat up. "So you'll just have to join it."

"Okay. So we're keeping our own last names, then?"

Kaiba smirked. "I'm definitely not changing mine."

"Fine."

-O-

Five months later, Kaiba and Yugi checked on their son. The infant was sleeping in his crib, but it was almost time for his feeding. His breath blew the blond tendrils out of his face. The rest of his blond hair (which could darken to Kaiba's brown or even Yugi's tri-colored tone) stuck up in small spikes.

"He needs a name," Yugi said. He grabbed a diaper from the package for later.

"Jaden." Kaiba tested the temperature of the milk in the bottle.

Yugi shuddered. "God, no."

The baby opened his eyes. The hint of violet in the gray irises made Yugi wonder if babies' eyes really did change colors.

Kaiba put his milk pump away. "Jack."

"Maybe," Yugi said. A motorcycle revved outside. "No, not Jack," Yugi decided.

Kaiba sighed, frustrated. "Then, Dimitri."

The baby turned his head toward them. His eyes moved from Kaiba to Yugi, then he put his hand in his mouth.

"Okay, let's name him Dimitri," Yugi agreed. "We can't keep calling him, 'kid who belongs to me.'"

Kaiba picked Dimitri up to give him his bottle. "Dimitri Kaiba. It fits."

As he drank from the bottle, Dimitri stared at Kaiba's card necklace. Kaiba gave him a rare smile.

"You'll be seeing a lot of those when you get older, kid."

-O-o-O-o-O-


End file.
